


a comprehensive history of the dream smp

by endingscene



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author is Not a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Eret is a Dad, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, M/M, Multi, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, TommyInnit Nearly Dies (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, dream sapnap and george have a...complicated...relationship ok, i wrote this fic for me lmao yall are welcome to read it though, i'll add more character/relationship tags as they show up, no beta we die like wilbur soot, romance isn't really a big deal in this fic btw don't expect romance, winged wilbur and tommy inheriting wings from philza is something that can be so personal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29859651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endingscene/pseuds/endingscene
Summary: Tommy is thirteen years old when the first war starts.He wonders how old he'll be when it ends.A descriptive rewrite of the Dream SMP lore in its entirety.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured i'd preface this work with an explanation. hi, everyone, i'm briar, the author of this fic.
> 
> originally, i started writing this in december to try to keep track of all the dream smp lore for my own purposes, until it became a summary + a quote book and eventually hit like 20k words. i figured i may as well actually write it and post it. so, here this is. the entire recorded dream smp lore. almost all of this information is canon, and i'll cite sources if i need to. however, for storytelling purposes, i've included some information that isn't. the sleepy boys family dynamic is canon in my fic, but not in smp canon. same with dadschlatt (although it is implied in canon, thanks puffy and glatt) and dream and sapnap's relationship. mostly, you'll be able to tell what's canon and what isn't. most of my own hcs are based on canon in some way anyway. the only really major thing i've changed is the timeline, just so tommy and tubbo stay minors throughout the entirety of this fic and it still works with the timeline. most notably, the l'manberg war for independence lasts for one year and schlatt's regime lasts for two, almost three, not four like it is in canon.
> 
> more importantly, i wanted to say that this is not a romantic fic. there are canon relationships, but i'd hardly say it counts as love. this is not a ship fic. please do not write it off as one, especially when the romantic pairings that are tagged as i am writing this (dream/george and dream/sapnap) are definitely not ones to be romanticized. the only canon romantic pairings are the ones that are tagged. there is a difference between platonic/brotherly love and romantic love, and i don't want anyone taking tommy's and tubbo's or wilbur's and eret's relationship out of context, especially when ccs have stated that they're uncomfortable with it.
> 
> i don't think it'll come to this, but obviously don't send this to ccs lmao
> 
> and obligatory trigger warning for suicide and depression and self harm and all that stuff, more so in later chapters.  
> i'll try to update this every friday, i have like ten chapters written in advance so i'll try my best to keep up.
> 
> also!! i'm also an avid watcher of the dsmp. i'm not omnipotent so if something i've written contradicts future dsmp lore, i may rewrite passages to change that. if something gets an explanation that didn't previously have one, i'll edit stuff in, but you know. just be aware that i know just as much as you do lol.
> 
> i hope yall enjoy this fic lol get ready for lots of hamilton references

More often than not, Tommy thinks back on everything and regrets things.

In the end, Tommy knows that it’s for the best. Everything happens for a reason. Still, he can’t help but wonder if things would’ve been different if he had acted differently. Would he have suffered less? Would he be better off if he had just said no?

Some days the answer is obvious. Other days, it isn’t.

Still, every once in a while, he’ll find himself back there, standing in his base, half-past one on a Sunday...

Tommy is about to leave to chop down some wood when Wilbur comes in. It is a calm afternoon, with no rush or pressure to get anything done. Later in the day, he’d probably stop by to visit Tubbo and give him some of the wood he was on his way to collect, but for now, he is still in his base, looking for his axe. Sunlight streams in through the windows, decorating his bare house.

Of course, he is interrupted by Wilbur, barging in unannounced.

Wilbur’s visits happen often, and even though he’d never admit it, Tommy appreciates them. Tommy likes living on his own, but he does sometimes miss the ruckus and chaos of living with his siblings. Wilbur brings some of that with him every time he visits, and he never fails to make Tommy smile. 

Still, Tommy should really put a door on his house. 

He barely has time to process what’s going on. Wilbur is talking before he is even in the room, and Tommy is still looking for his axe.

“Where are the goddamn blaze rods, I swear to fucking God, if those damn pigs lied to me about it, I’m going to-”

Tommy finally finds his axe and turns around to stare at Wilbur for a bit blankly, watching him ramble on about nonsensical things, barely coherent. While this isn’t out of the ordinary for Wilbur, it certainly does not make it any less weird. Tommy puts down his axe on a nearby table, taking off his helmet, sighing. “Wilbur? Is everything alright?”

Wilbur looks up at Tommy, stopping his frantic pacing to smile at him. “Hi, Tommy. Yes, everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t mean to state the obvious, but you seem to be going a little mad there. Are you sure everything is alright?”

Wilbur claps his hands together. His long orange jacket lazily floats around him in the wind, his hair partially obscured by a dark beanie, massive golden wings folded behind him. His appearance matches him, Tommy thinks —docile, simple, and charming. Wilbur has a sort of kindness to him that people could just see in his eyes. Maybe it is the tiny crow’s feet starting to form at the corners of his eyes, even though he is only in his 20s, or his random bouts of singing, but there is a light in Wilbur that Tommy didn’t see in many people, and although he would never admit it, he looks up to Wilbur a lot because of it. Tommy would listen to anything Wilbur said to him.

“Everything is fine! Perfect, actually. Say, Tommy, how would you like to make a little extra cash?”

“Well, I do love money,” Tommy replies, laughing. He’s not lying, but he is slightly joking with his manner of speaking. Wilbur is not among the rich on the server, so he is probably right to think he was joking at first. Besides, Wilbur is seldom serious about anything. He’s just Wilbur.

“Great! Would you want to sell drugs with me?”

Tommy bursts into laughter, leaning back and almost dropping his axe. Wilbur’s statement caught him a little off-guard, but it was funny nonetheless. Wilbur chuckles a bit at Tommy’s over-the-top reaction, but as Tommy’s laughter ceases, he quickly realizes that Wilbur is serious.

“What, you’re not serious, are you?”

“One hundred percent. I’ve already got a plan. Do you want in?”

Tommy considers this for a second. On one hand, drugs are considered bad and are probably against the rules of the server. He is also a young teenager, so it’s probably bad for him to be participating in these kinds of things, and he doesn’t even really need the money. Sure, his base is humble, but for his age, Tommy is doing quite well for himself.

On the other hand, Wilbur is telling Tommy this, and he’s Wilbur. Tommy would do anything he says. And Tommy is, admittedly, pretty bored.

“Of course,” Tommy says. “I love drugs. I do all of them, all the time. I’m a drug master, if I do say so myself.”

Wilbur breaks into a smile. “I knew you’d agree with me! Come, Tommy. Let me show you to my van.”

Tommy follows Wilbur out of his house and down the Prime Path happily, his axe slung over his shoulder. He is slightly off-put as Wilbur suddenly veers off the Prime Path and into the oak forest on the outskirts of the server.

“Wilbur? Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur doesn’t say anything, pushing the tree branches aside to make way for the both of them. Tommy watches him look around the forest, eyes focused and concentrated. Tommy can tell that this isn’t his first time coming here, and that he knows this forest like the back of his hand. Wilbur looks back at Tommy, then keeps walking. Eventually, they come to a river.

“It’s here,” Wilbur says breathily. He pushes the last of the branches aside and Tommy can finally see a shallow island in the middle of the river. On it is a gray caravan—Wilbur’s drug van.

“Wai—wha—You’re serious!” Tommy exclaims, still half-expecting it to be fake. Clearly, it’s not.

“Of course I am! When have I ever not been serious, Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t reply, gleefully laughing at the sight of the van. He barely even feels the cool water against his back as he wades across the river. He’s too excited. Wilbur follows soon after him, playfully slapping some water in Tommy’s direction. Normally, he’d splash Wilbur back, but he is too entranced by the van to focus on him right now.

“This is it,” Wilbur says. “Welcome to the caravan, the best thing you will ever see in your life. I built this baby myself. She’s a beaut,” Wilbur says, leaning on the van and gently slapping it. Tommy nods in agreement.

“It’s wonderful. I can’t wait to become a drug dealer,” Tommy says.

“Now, now, drug dealer is quite a strong word. Listen to me, Tommy. If anyone asks, what are we?”

Tommy thinks for a second. “Gentlemen.”

“That’s right. We’re gentlemen who live in a caravan.”

“My plan is flawless, Tommy,” Wilbur continues. “The way I see it is there are two kinds of people around here—the ones here to dominate and the ones here for a good time. Now, here’s the real money idea—what if I could be both? And the answer to that is drugs. If I can get those who want a good time, all the Tommys of the world working under me to create a product that the min-maxers will want, we can build an empire together. But we need to not be caught firstly. That’s why I’ve built this van so we can run our business out of this without alerting the big dogs who could potentially get upset. You see—come here, step inside—at first sight, it looks like an innocent van. Who could get mad at two brothers, just living in a caravan? That’s perfectly fine. But then, Tommy, look—”

Wilbur leads Tommy inside the van, showing him the two front seats, then turning around and pushing open a stone sliding door leading to the back of the caravan. The room was simple and polished, with two ledges on either side of the room with brewing stands on each one. In the back, Tommy can see another room filled with chests, presumably for supplies. Wilbur holds out his hands excitedly, waiting for Tommy’s response.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Uh, Wilbur? There are windows here. You do realize people can see you making the drugs, right?” 

Wilbur’s smile falters. “Oh. Right. Well, we’ll fix that.” Wilbur brushes it off, breaking into a smile again and walking towards Tommy. “See, Tommy? What would I do without you? We’re destined to run drugs together. It’s fate.”

Tommy doesn’t believe in fate very much, he thinks. But he can admit that he and Wilbur make a good team, and he certainly doesn’t want Wilbur to get into any trouble (which he certainly will without Tommy’s help).

Besides, he could use the money.

“Alright, then. What’s this about creating demand?”

Wilbur’s face lights up.

“Right now, no one is looking for drugs because everybody has the means to make them themselves. The SMP rules also clearly state that it’s not allowed anyway. Essentially, there is no demand, so if we start making drugs right now, our business will surely fail.”

“Right, naturally.”

“We have to create demand. You know what’s needed to create drugs, right?”

Tommy nods. “Of course. Brewing stands, blaze rods, blaze powder, and nether wart. And bottles and water, I suppose.”

“Exactly. We have to figure out a way to obtain everyone’s brewing stands, blaze rods, nether wart, and their potions. Then, when they all have no way to make drugs, that’s where we come in, and offer our services to them.”

“How? No one’ll want to just give us their supplies. I surely wouldn’t.”

Wilbur snaps his fingers. “I have a perfect plan for that. Quick, Tommy—what’s a symptom of some horrible disease?”

“Diarrhea,” Tommy says, not thinking too much about it.

“Diarrhea!” Wilbur exclaims. “That’s perfect. We can tell everyone that brewing their own potions causes diarrhea. They’ll instantly hand them over. Besides, you’ll be telling them, and they’ll believe you. You know, you’re young, naive—you’re like a girl scout. People will believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

“What does naive mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Our plan is perfect. There is no way this could go wrong.”

Tommy holds back a smile, shaking Wilbur’s hand. “Oh, you have got yourself a deal, big man! This is a _genius_ plan! I mean, frankly—bad guy, good guy—it doesn’t matter. No one wants to poo their pants.”

“Exactly. Come on, quick. Let’s go find some people to sell drugs to. I look forward to doing business with you.”

“And you, as well.” 

Tommy and Wilbur spend the night in the caravan, sleeping in their chairs. Tommy can hear the wilderness around him as well as the hustle and bustle of the main city a little further away. He finds it comforting. Having Wilbur there is nice, too. These days, Tommy sleeps alone in his base, but after so many years of sleeping next to his brothers, the silence in Tommy’s own bedroom is deafening. The only downside is their wings take up most of the space in the caravan, even when they fold them up or wrap themselves in them. Both of them have wings—inherited from their father. They’re both quite clumsy fliers, to the point where walking is usually easier, but it’s usually nice having wings nonetheless. It makes them seem more like brothers. Still, having Wilbur there is a nice change of pace, and Tommy watches his own brother’s chest rise and fall slowly until he falls asleep himself.

The next day, they wake up to the sound of wind rustling through the trees. It’s a little odd, as Tommy’s home isn’t near a forest. Still, it’s nice. 

Wilbur and Tommy talk amongst themselves loudly as they walk down the Prime Path, searching for people to talk to about their new, up-and-coming drug cartel. Almost no one is out that early, except for Punz, who pretends he doesn’t hear them and darts away as soon as he sees them approach. However, soon after, they come across their first target—their own brother, Tubbo.

Tubbo, despite being the only adopted one out of Tommy’s brothers, bears a striking resemblance to Wilbur. He’s the shortest of all of them, standing a full head below Tommy, with thick brown hair brushed over his eyes and the same kind eyes that Wilbur held. However, he had some sort of childlike innocence in his own eyes that Wilbur seemed to lack, and he was by far Tommy’s favorite brother and best friend. Of course, Tommy wasted no time in trying to speak to Tubbo.

“Tubbo! Tubbo!” Tommy calls, jogging up to reach Tubbo, who is holding a flower, trying to catch bees along the path. Tubbo drops his flower in surprise.

“Tommy! Wilbur! Hello!” He says, picking up his flower again. 

“Big man Tubbo! The big T! What’s going on here? How’s your day been?” Tommy greets Tubbo with a hug and a smile as usual. Tubbo beams, smiling at Wilbur as well. 

“I’m catching bees! Look! Oh, dear, I think you scared them away. Oh, well. What are you up to there?”

Tommy’s tone changes instantly. “Me and Big Man Wilbur have made a terrible, terrible discovery. And holy shit, this will blow your mind. Literally. Tubbo, do you have any brewing stands or blaze rods on you?”

“Uh, not on me at the moment, but I have some in my house. Why?”

Tommy and Wilbur make exaggerated gasps. Wilbur pretends to faint into Tommy’s arms, sobbing dramatically. It’s a cheap performance, but it’s enough to convince Tubbo, who drops his flower once again in worry.

“Why? Why? What’s wrong with brewing stands?” Tubbo asks. “What’s going on?”

“Tubbo, we’re going to need you to hand over those blaze rods and any related products—like your brewing stands—immediately. We have made a GROUNDBREAKING discovery and we have concluded that brewing stands actually cause diarrhea, horrible diarrhea. So, we’re going to need those brewing stands. Right now,” Wilbur says with fake concern. Wilbur is a weirdly good actor, Tommy notes. Tommy might’ve been convinced, had he not been in on the plan. Tubbo seems utterly convinced, though, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, of course. I’ll take you to my house. You can look through my chests. Wait, won’t you get diarrhea, too?” Tubbo asks.

Tommy and Wilbur exchange glances. They hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Well, you see, we have a very specific disposal method. It’s a closed practice, you wouldn’t understand. We’re immune, basically. But we’re going to need those brewing stands. Uh, right now.” Tommy is, quite frankly, pulling this out of his ass. But Tubbo is his brother and best friend, and he’d probably believe anything Tommy says to him, so Tommy says it and hopes for the best.

Tubbo doesn’t seem convinced, but brushes over it anyway, turning around to go to his house. “Come on, this way. You can look through my things. What exactly do you need? Just my brewing stands?”

“Brewing stands, blaze rods, and blaze powder. Those will all cause insufferable diarrhea. Trust me, we know from experience,” Wilbur lists curtly.

“What about nether wart?”

“Nether wart is fine on its own, but don’t use it to brew potions unless you want to be overrun by diarrhea,” Wilbur warns.

“Oh, okay. Here’s my house. You can look through my chests and take what you need. I don’t want diarrhea,” Tubbo admits, opening the door to his home. His house is large and pretty, ornate and well-lit, and neatly decorated as well. In the back, he has his own farm of bees, the only one on the server. Tubbo makes quite a living by making honey, and he does quite well for himself. Taking his brewing supplies will do little to harm Tubbo. Not only does he have the means to buy more, but Tubbo is one of the friendlier people around, and has few enemies—hence, little reason to need the drugs anyway. Tommy feels a little better about tricking him after realizing that.

Wilbur takes charge, going through all of Tubbo’s chests quickly and handing all of his brewing stands to Tommy, who pockets them. “Dear, oh, dear, Tubbo. You’re amazingly lucky that the diarrhea hasn’t affected you yet. This is serious.” Wilbur clicks his tongue, pocketing several of Tubbo’s potions of fire resistance and invisibility, handing the rest to Tommy.

“Wait, those are my potions! Are you sure you need those, too?” Tubbo sulks, reaching his hand out to stop Wilbur. Wilbur easily pushes him aside, picking up the last of Tubbo’s brewing stands.

“Yes, unfortunately, potions are products of brewing stands and therefore, also cause diarrhea. So sorry. We’ll be confiscating these. Do you have any blaze rods or blaze powder? Anything like that?”

Tubbo thinks for a second. “Yes, I believe I do have a few stacks. Over here, in these chests. Here—”

Tubbo extends his hand, holding an armful of blaze rods. Wilbur reaches out to grab it, but before any of them can process what’s happening, the blaze rods are slammed to the floor by a sword, and quickly pocketed by an unknown figure.

The room dissolves into chaos. Tommy and Tubbo both draw their axes, but cannot seem to find the target. Wilbur screams shrilly, ducking under a nearby chest and nearly dropping half of Tubbo’s potions. Tommy swings his axe blindly for a few moments, screaming at the top of his lungs, and after a few seconds hits something—someone.

Tommy finds himself on top of someone, with his axe to their throat—Sapnap.

Sapnap is muscular and dark-haired, with playful eyes and a white strip of cloth tied around his head. He wears dark jeans and a black turtleneck under a white T-shirt with an emblem of a flame on it under full netherite armor with the heavy smudged black eyeliner, accompanied by the dumbest, stupidest, snootiest, smuggest smirk on his face that Tommy has ever seen. 

“Are those potions in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?” Sapnap croons. 

Tommy exchanges glances with Tubbo, then gives Sapnap a disgusted look. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He presses his axe deeper into Sapnap’s throat, right in the chink of his armor, between his helmet and chestplate. He’s sure he’s almost drawing blood, but Sapnap doesn’t seem fazed at all.

In fact, Sapnap puts his arms behind his head and crosses his legs. He’s still on the floor, but Sapnap is so much more muscular than Tommy that he is almost thrown off as he shifts his position. It’s clear that Sapnap is only in that position because he chooses to be so. It also doesn’t help that neither Tommy, Wilbur, or Tubbo are wearing armor. It begins to dawn on Tommy that Sapnap is doing them a favor by not killing them instantly.

Slowly, he backs off Sapnap. He knows not actually doing anything to him, and if Sapnap does decide that Tommy needs to die, then Tommy is much closer than he’d like to be. Tommy stands up, still aiming his axe at Sapnap’s throat.

Sapnap slowly sits up, ruffling his black hair. “Dude, what is your problem?” He asks, adjusting the shoulders on his chestplate.

“No, what is _your_ problem? Give me back Tubbo’s blaze rods!” Tommy wags his axe at Sapnap, who raises his eyebrows cockily. He has a slit shaved in his left eyebrow and a piercing in his right one. 

_What an edgelord,_ Tommy thinks. Sapnap puts his hands up in the air.

“What blaze rods? I don’t see any here.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Listen here, dickhead. We’re going to need to confiscate those immediately. Wilbur, tell him!”

Wilbur, who is still slightly cowering in a corner, stands up straight, clearing his throat. “Right, right! Of course! Sapnap, you may not be informed of this, but we are here to collect any blaze rods, potions, and brewing stands, as it has been recently discovered that they cause—and you’re not going to believe this, Sapnap—they cause diarrhea! I imagine it would be quite detrimental to your image to just have you strutting around the server with horrible, horrible diarrhea. So, for your own sake, we are going to need those blaze rods back immediately.”

Tommy knows the situation is going south before Sapnap even responds. Wilbur is a good actor, but Sapnap doesn’t have an ounce of trust or respect in Wilbur. They are quickly losing control, and Tommy needs to do something about it. 

Sapnap scoffs. “Bullshit. I don’t know what you dweebs want brewing stands and blaze rods for, but I’m not giving these up. You all can suck my dick. All of this is massive cap.”

“We are 100 percent legitimate, Sapnap. Blaze rods cause diarrhea. Do you really want to take that chance?” Tommy says.

“What chance? You’re both straight-up lying.”

“Right, well, I’m running. I can already smell the diarrhea from here. I’m going to go, er, dispose of these brewing stands. Get away from us, poo boy!” Tommy shouts, bolting out the open door and down the Prime Path in the direction of the van.

“Toodle-oo!” Wilbur says, following in suit.

“Wait up!” Tubbo calls, also following.

Sapnap grumbles something about British people under his breath before picking his sword up from the floor and sprinting after the three of them. Tommy can tell due to the unmistakable clank of armor. For the first time in that entire interaction, Tommy thinks for a moment. Wilbur still hasn’t put curtains or anything on the caravan. Sapnap isn’t the smartest (after all, he is American) but if he follows Tommy and Wilbur back to the caravan, he will see their van, and their entire operation will be over before it even starts.

“Wilbur! To my house!” Tommy yells, but Wilbur can’t seem to hear him, and keeps running to the caravan, leaving Tommy with no choice but to try to get there before Sapnap and hide the evidence. 

Thankfully, Sapnap’s armor weighs him down a little, and Tommy manages to swim across the water and get into the caravan before he can get there. Slamming the sliding door shut, Tommy frantically looks for something to cover up the brewing stands. There’s nothing in the chests, nothing in the van…

“Wilbur? Wilbur! We need to hide the evide...oh.” 

Tommy starts shouting for Wilbur, but his voice trails off as he sees Tubbo standing in the frame of the sliding door, completely frozen in shock.

“Tommy?” Tubbo asks, his voice soft.

“Uh...what’s this?”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Drugs,” Sapnap says breathlessly, dripping wet from swimming in the river surrounding the caravan. “It’s drugs, Tubbo. Brewing stands don’t cause diarrhea. Neither do blaze rods. Tubbo, they’re trying to take your hard-earned supplies to make and sell drugs.”

“These aren’t drugs!” Tommy protests. “I—uh—well, uh, you see—Wilbur?”

Sapnap shakes his head. “Here, Tubbo. Take your blaze rods. Let’s get out of here. Someone’s bound to catch you idiots, you know. I’d tread lightly if I were you, and if I see this van here tomorrow, I’m arresting you for producing and selling illegal drugs.” 

Tubbo shoots Tommy a pitiful look, pocketing his blaze rods and turning around. Sapnap gently ushers Tubbo out of the van.

“Hey, these are only half my blaze rods. Can I have the rest back?”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

Tommy stands there helplessly, watching his favorite brother walk away with the biggest dickhead on the server. He sighs, closing the door to the van. Wilbur meekly emerges from the back chest room. He had been hiding there for the entire altercation. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Tommy shouts, dragging Wilbur out of the back room by the collar of his jacket. “Why didn’t you say anything, dickhead?! They both have the wrong idea now!”

“I—well—I mean, all things considered, I think that went well,” Wilbur stammers, but even he sounds questioning. 

Tommy sighs, turning around. “I’m out. This isn’t worth making Tubbo my enemy.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, now hold on there a second, big man. Tommy! My brother! The big T! T-Money! There’s no need to get fussy!” Wilbur puts his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, bending his knees slightly to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Tommy, we’re a team. Give me until the end of the day, and I know we can fix this. I promise that we won’t have to fight Tubbo in any sort of way.”

Tommy avoids eye contact, averting his eyes. He wants to trust Wilbur, he really does, but he’s not sure if his loyalties are lying with the wrong people. If he has to pick between brothers, his answer will always be Tubbo, but if Wilbur is going to fix the situation like how he says he will, then maybe he won’t have to choose. He has faith in Wilbur, but how far will that faith go?

Tommy answers his question himself instantly.

“Okay, then.”

Wilbur smiles. “You won’t regret this, Tommy. Give me until the end of the day, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“God, I hope so,” Tommy mumbles under his breath.

“I think I have a plan. I may need your help, though,” Wilbur says. “Have you seen Fundy around today?”

Tommy shakes his head. “The only people I’ve seen today are Tubbo, Sapnap, and Punz. And you, obviously.” 

“Right. Well, that’s the first step of my plan. Go fetch Fundy for me, will you? And if you see Sapnap, don’t speak to him—do not engage. In fact, if you could find Fundy and bring him here without Sapnap finding out at all, that would be incredible. But I’m going to need Fundy here, and soon.”

“Now, wait a minute, you said you were going to fix this! It’s sounding a lot like you’re just getting me to fix it!” Tommy wags his finger at Wilbur, who calmly steps back.

“No, I am going to fix it! I just need you to find Fundy first. Now, shoo. Shoo!”

Tommy grumbles some swears under his breath, but ultimately decides it’s in his best interest to listen to what Wilbur has to say and to go find his nephew.

Technically, Fundy is Tommy’s nephew, but he doesn’t like to think about that. Because Wilbur is almost twice Tommy’s age, and Fundy was born when Tommy was a baby and Wilbur was very young, Tommy and Fundy are around the same age. Tommy doesn’t like to think of Fundy as his nephew, but he doesn’t quite think of him as a brother, either. Fundy is more like a kooky neighbor who he happens to be related to, he thinks. He’s confident that Fundy thinks the same of him.

Although, he really does hope that Fundy doesn’t, as it would make it a hell of a lot easier to get him to come with Tommy.

The first place Tommy goes is obviously, Fundy’s house, a huge cobblestone cylinder decorated with an indoor garden and a plethora of foxes. It drives Tommy mad, how Fundy can make the flashiest and simplest builds look gorgeous and elegant. Still, right now, Tommy has a prior agenda. He needs to find Fundy.

Tommy scans the area around Fundy’s house. He doesn’t seem to be outside, so Tommy thinks it best to just let himself in. Fundy shouldn’t mind, right?

Tommy is sorely mistaken, as he finds himself pressed to the door with a crossbow aimed at his chest as soon as he opens the door.

“What are you doing here?” 

Fundy is taller than Tommy, with orange hair that falls over his eyes. A pair of floppy, furry orange ears stick out from underneath the black hat he wears. He’s wearing his usual black skinny jeans, a loose white T-shirt tucked into his pants, and a cropped black jacket adorned with orange, yellow, and blue stripes of color, as well as several pride pins. His fingerless black gloves are glaringly apparent as they rest on the hilt of his crossbow.

“Is this how you greet your uncle, bitch?” Tommy says, hoping Fundy will lower his crossbow. Much to his dismay, he does not. 

“Don’t say that,” Fundy says, groaning. “I hardly think you qualify as my uncle.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. I do come in peace, though. I’m not here to grief your house, or kill your pets, or mug you—”

“Or fill my house with granite,” Fundy adds.

“Okay, that was one time—”

“Or stab me, or loot my base, or put an exploding pressure plate under my door—”

“Alright, I get the point!” Tommy shushes Fundy. “I’m here to deliver a message. From your father.”

At this, Fundy’s interest is piqued. 

“A message? From Will?”

“That’s dad to you, mind you.”

“Shut up! Just—” Fundy sighs. “Just give me the message. What does he want?”

“Meet me on the Prime Path near my house at sunset. He wants to see you to deliver this message in person. Try not to be seen by anyone, particularly Sapnap, and bring any and all blaze rods, brewing stands, and potions you have.”

“That’s a terrible message.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’”

Fundy doesn’t answer, considering Tommy’s comment for a moment.

“Very well. I’ll be there. No funny business, though.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?! I’ve never done any sort of funny business. They call me ‘Serious Man Tommy—’”

“That’s enough. Leave, or I will shoot.”

“That’s fair.”

Tommy meets Fundy by his base at sunset, as Fundy promised. This time, they don’t say anything to each other. Tommy hands Fundy one of Tubbo’s invisibility potions. Fundy looks slightly confused, looking down at the potion questioningly.

“Invisibility potion. Drink it,” Tommy says.

“Why?”

“Sapnap can’t see us.”

“Why?”

“Just drink it, dickhead! Hold a stick so I know where you are, but if anyone comes by, put it away. I don’t want you to get caught before you can talk to Wilbur. Now, follow me, and don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not being a dick!” Fundy argues, chugging the potion. Tommy does the same.

“Well, keep it that way, then. Follow me.”

Tommy is not a quiet person, but he leads Fundy through the trees near the Prime Path silently and quickly. Every once in a while, he will hear a step out of place, or a rustle in the bushes, but he can still see Fundy holding his stick next to him as the night falls, so he knows that everything must be okay. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Tommy says, still invisible as they walk through the trees together.

“Depends on the question.”

“Why are you so eager to come with me, just for a lousy message from Wilbur?” 

Fundy says nothing. Tommy doesn’t mean to hit close to home, he is just genuinely curious. Not to say that getting Fundy to come with him was easy, but it was certainly not as difficult as he was expecting, especially when the entire interaction started with Tommy breaking into Fundy’s home. 

“Er, sorry,” Tommy says shortly after. He may not always agree with Fundy or anything, or be particularly close with him, but the last thing he wants is to hurt him.

“You of all people could never understand,” Fundy mutters under his breath. Tommy pretends not to hear.

“This way. Look, there’s Wilbur!” Tommy breaks into a sprint, jumping into the river surrounding the island and paddling the rest of the way to the caravan. Fundy rolls his eyes, looking around for a shallow spot to cross and simply jumping over.

“What is this place?” Fundy asks.

“Fundy! My son!” Wilbur steps out of the open caravan, waving to Fundy. He jogs over there, wrapping Fundy in an embrace, encasing them both in his massive wings. Fundy stands there stiffly, letting it happen and awkwardly patting Wilbur on the back. “It’s been awhile! How have you been?”

“You’d know if you ever went to see me,” Fundy snaps. 

Wilbur laughs. Tommy is unsure if he didn’t understand Fundy’s remark, or if he is simply that shallow. “I’m glad to hear! Come in, come in. I have an urgent message to discuss with you. Tommy, you can tag along as well. Moral support, you know. Gotta keep your family close!”

“I’m your family,” Fundy says.

“Yes, well, so is Tommy. Come in! How do you like my new home? I built this caravan myself!” Wilbur says proudly.

“It’s small,” Fundy remarks. “Can we speak in the back of the caravan, maybe? There’s more room there.”

“No, no! Let’s stay here, shall we?!” Wilbur nervously blocks the sliding door leading to the back of the van and their drug lab. “Tommy may have told you that you shouldn’t be seen by Sapnap on the way here, correct?”

“Indeed, he did say that. Why?”

“Well, Fundy, this is a little, er...embarrassing. Not for me, of course. For Sapnap. But I want you to hear the truth before Sapnap can get some crazy ideas in your head. Fundy, we have recently discovered that Sapnap is a drug addict.”

Fundy blinks a few times. Tommy almost chokes. “Oh?”

Clearly, neither of them were expecting to hear that.

“Yes, Sapnap is unfortunately a drug addict. He is addicted to drugs, and unfortunately, it’s up to us to break him of this horrible habit. The only way to do this is to cut off his means of obtaining and making drugs. So, I am enlisting your help, Fundy. Can you get Sapnap’s blaze rods and brewing stands for me?”

Fundy nods seriously. Tommy gapes. There’s no way he believes this, right?

“Of course, father. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Hold on, now.”

Tommy whirls around, pulling out his axe as fast as he can. They were invisible the whole way there. How did he find them?

Sapnap stands in the doorway of the caravan, still decked out in full netherite armor. His bandana tied around his forehead blows in the wind, his black hair wet and stuck to his face from swimming in the river. He holds an axe in one hand, glowing slightly violet from enchantments, and blaze rods in his other hand.

“Sapnap,” Tommy says shakily. “How did you find us?”

Sapnap smiles crookedly, pocketing the blaze rods and pulling out a stick. “You dropped something.”

“Sapnap, is this true? These are some very serious allegations against you,” Fundy says. 

“I—no, of course they’re not true! I’m not a fucking drug addict!” Sapnap replies hotly. “Fundy, do you really want to know what happened? Your dear ol’ pops here is trying to get a hold of all the potion-making supplies on the server in order to make, sell, and consume drugs for profit. I, like any reasonable person, am trying to stop them from taking all our shit. Look, if Wilbur wants to sell drugs like the senile old man he is, he’s free to do that on his own time, but he shouldn’t involve me—” Sapnap sighs. “—or his child brothers and son, for fuck’s sake. Much less try to take me and Tubbo’s hard earned shit just to make drugs with it.”

Fundy turns back to Wilbur. “Is that true?”

“Of course nor! He’s an addict, Fundy. Of course he’d spew this kind of nonsense, he’s trying to convince you to turn on me so he can fuel his habit!” Sapnap retorts.

Fundy glances between Wilbur and Sapnap. Tommy can tell that Fundy is conflicted. On one hand, Sapnap is making a lot of sense, and he doesn’t seem like a drug addict, but on the other hand, Wilbur is his dad. 

“I—I can’t pick. I don’t know who’s right and who’s not,” Fundy admits. “You both have good arguments.”

“How about this, Fundy—I’ll prove to you that this isn’t a drug van. It’s actually a hot dog van,” Wilbur says.

Sapnap almost chokes, laughing. “A hot dog van? You’re shitting me, right? You’re pulling my leg. There’s no way this is a hot dog van.”

“It’s a hot dog van! I’ll prove it to you, right now! We’re still under construction, but I am dead serious. What more can I do to prove this to you?” Wilbur asks, tugging at Sapnap’s collar.

Sapnap brushes Wilbur off, stepping back. “Make me a hot dog. Right now. If this is a hot dog van, you must sell hot dogs, right?”

Wilbur steps back too. “Well, you see, we’re under construction, so we don’t exactly, er...have the hot dogs right now. If you come back in a few days, maybe we can-”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Okay, then. I was hoping we could keep this drug business between us, but you’ve given me no choice. Wilbur and Tommy, you are under arrest for possessing, manufacturing, and selling drugs, as well as terrorizing minors and disrupting the peace.”

The room instantly bursts into chaos, everyone talking over each other and trying to make sense of what just happened. Sapnap is the only one who seems calm, amused by the state of the room. Tommy wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Arrest? On what charges? You can’t do that! You’re not a cop! Are you a cop? If you’re a cop, you legally have to tell me-”

“This is bullshit! Shut up, Cracknap. Shitnap. Pissnap. How can I terrorize minors if I’m also a minor! You’re stupid, and you’re American, and you’re a pussy, and you’re stinky, and-”

“What is going on here? Is he allowed to arrest you? Does this server even have a jail?”

“Listen.” Sapnap’s voice is deep and rough. “You’re causing problems here. You’re disrupting still waters around here, and I can’t let that happen. So, you’re under arrest, on the charges of obscuring justice and making drugs. Come with me. Or I’ll make you.”

“What does obscuring mean?” Tommy asks.

“It means to hide or restrict something,” Sapnap says.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Hey. Catch.” 

Tommy starts to protest, but before he can even finish his statement, Sapnap has pulled out his crossbow, and there is an arrow in Tommy’s chest.

Tommy’s breath hitches from shock, and he can feel his feet slipping and his vision going fuzzy. He can feel Fundy’s body underneath his, holding him up, and he can see Wilbur dart away as Sapnap keeps blindly shooting.

“Stop! Stop! Why did you shoot?!” Fundy is crying as they sink to the floor. Tommy is lightheaded, but he can still understand bits of their conversation. Fundy is yelling something in Dutch and trying to hold onto Tommy at the same time, covering them both with a shield. Sapnap is still standing over them. Why is he still there? Hasn’t he done enough?

Tommy’s breathing slows. His shirt is damp with blood, and Fundy’s hands are pulling him every which way, trying to stop the blood from flowing. Even his shrieks sound fox-like. The last thing Tommy hears is Fundy crying as his eyes flutter closed.


	2. tommy.

Tommy wakes up inside the caravan to the smell of something burning. He blinks a few times, trying to adjust his eyes to the light. It’s no longer night, and the sun illuminates the entire caravan. He can feel a weight on his bed—Fundy, asleep in a little ball at the end of the bed, in a curiously fox-like manner. His hands are still stained with blood, and his white shirt and jacket are covered in it. However, most noticeably, there is a throbbing pain in Tommy’s chest. When he reaches to touch it, he finds his shirt gone, replaced with bandages that wrap around his entire torso. 

When he tries to sit up to stretch his wings, he is greeted with even more pain, and there is still a lingering smell of something burning and...blaze powder?

Wilbur turns around, his humming stopping. “You’re up!”

Tommy winces in pain, then remembers he is surrounded by people and bites his tongue to stop from flinching. “What happened? Why am I here?”

Wilbur’s expression darkens. “Sapnap shot you. Remember?”

Tommy rubs his head. “I...yes, I remember. What happened after? I think...I blacked out?”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Wilbur says. “Fundy saved your life. He fought off Sapnap while you were out. I told him to say ‘fuck 12’ and he did. Sapnap got so mad. It was awesome.”

“You told a 12-year-old to cuss out a cop?”

“It was really funny, though,” Wilbur says. “And—hey, you’re 13! Why are you talking?”

Tommy glances over at Fundy, still asleep on his bed. Tommy notices rips in Fundy’s jacket from being nipped by arrows. He feels a pang of guilt. If he had a warning, he could’ve fought Sapnap off himself, but instead he was rendered completely useless by a single arrow and an enchanted crossbow. Now, Fundy had to risk his life for his, and he’ll be indebted to him. Tommy doesn’t like owing something to others, even if it’s just Fundy.

“Is he okay?” Tommy asks. 

Wilbur nods. “He’s fine. A little shaken up, but he’s not hurt.”

“And you? What happened to you?”

Wilbur sighs. “I ran. I’m sorry. I didn’t have any armor or weapons. He would’ve killed me. I hid again.”

“What about Sapnap? Is he dead? Did we…”

Wilbur shakes his head. “Heavens, no. Fundy got him in the shoulder, but he’s most certainly not dead. Whatever he is, he won’t be happy with us.”

Tommy nods as Wilbur continues brewing potions. Suddenly, he realizes.

“Wilbur. Fundy’s here. He doesn’t know about the drugs! Hide it, quick, before he wakes up!”

“Tommy. Tommy. Calm. It’s okay. I told him last night. He’s in,” Wilbur says, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy glances over at Fundy again. “Really? That wet blanket wants to sell drugs?”

“Don’t call him that. He’s my son. But yes, he agreed that Sapnap shouldn’t win in this situation. He’s not crazy about the drugs, but he wants to spend time with us. He doesn’t have much of a relationship with you, you know. And he was born near here, so he knows the terrain well. Sapnap shooting you was the last straw for him. He cares a lot about you.” 

Tommy considers this. Wilbur is right. Even though Fundy is a massive wet blanket, they’re family, and they don’t have much of a relationship. Maybe they can start now.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “What’s our next move?”

“We have to make a convincing front. I made some...minor edits to the van while you were asleep. Go outside, take a look.”

Wilbur helps Tommy stand up, slinging one of Tommy’s arms over his shoulder and helping him walk outside. Together, they face the van.

Wilbur’s “minor edits” are quite an understatement. There is a massive gaudy sign of a burning hot-dog on the top of the van, almost as big as the van itself. The hot-dog is bright red, and has a cheerful face drawn on it, and text that reads “Soot Family Hto-Dog Van.”

“That’s hideous,” Tommy says, stifling a laugh. “That is _massively_ ugly. And it’s misspelled.”

“Shut up! As if you can do any better,” Wilbur scoffs, slapping Tommy on the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Wilbur helps Tommy back into the van, dragging him up the stairs and into the back room. “I made another room, too. Look—the brewing stands are in this secret room, back here, and we’ll put the furnaces in this main room so it looks even more like a hot-dog van. It’s a foolproof plan. This way, we can just conduct our business in peace if anyone comes around again.”

“That’s not a bad idea. You did good, Will.”

“Don’t say that, I’ll cry.”

“Whatever.”

“You should sit down. Here, drink this. Potion of healing,” Wilbur says, shoving a bottle into Tommy’s hands. “You’ll feel better once you do.”

Tommy quickly chugs the whole thing. Wilbur is right; he feels a warmth in his chest and the pain starts to ease. “Thanks. Do you have my shirt and armor?” 

Wilbur nods. “Your armor’s hung up outside. Your shirt was torn up pretty bad, but there’s a spare in one of the chests in the back room. Don’t try to unravel your bandages yet, by the way. Not until I can make a few more healing potions.”

Tommy nods, quickly finding the shirt, and pulling it over his head as he walks outside to retrieve his armor, preening some of the bent feathers on his wings as he walks. He’s stopped by a rustle in the bushes.

Tommy freezes. If it’s Sapnap, here to shoot him again, he might not survive this time. “Who’s there?”

“Well, well, well. I see you’re still alive. I thought I’d killed you.”

Tommy turns around. Sapnap walks out of the bushes, with that stupid unmistakable Texas drawl of his. Wilbur was right about Fundy, though. Whatever happened between Sapnap and Fundy must’ve been a big fight. Sapnap has a massive scratch on his face and a split lip, and most notably, his entire left shoulder is bandaged. He’s doing a good job of hiding it; Tommy can barely see it from under his armor and clothes, but the bandages creep all the way up to his neck. Fundy really fucked him up. 

“Silence, American,” Tommy says. Sapnap pulls out his crossbow. “Wait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait, can we talk this out? Please? Look, you already did this. No need to do it again. It already hurts.”

“We tried talking it out last night, and it didn’t end well. Boys? You can come out now,” Sapnap calls, and out of the bushes and surrounding foliage emerge three other people. Purpled, a light blond boy, maybe a little older than Tommy, with sickly pale skin and sharp, defined features, stands to Sapnap’s right. Tommy feels eyes behind him, eyes belonging to Ponk, face largely obscured by a colorful red and yellow mask, and worst of all, Tubbo, on Sapnap’s left. All of them have their weapons drawn.

Somehow, seeing his own brother standing up there, stood against him, ready to shoot hurts more than his wound.

“Tubbo?” Tommy’s voice breaks. Tubbo points his sword at Tommy, and Tommy can’t help but put his arms up and fall to his knees. He doesn’t even make an attempt to get his armor. It can’t be worth it without Tubbo on his side. “What are you doing?”

“Wilbur Soot, Tommy, and Fundy, you are officially under arrest for the possession, distribution, and creation of illegal substances. We’re going to need you to come with us,” Tubbo says. His voice is shaky, and his hands are trembling on his sword.

“Tubbo, I…” 

Tommy feels a hand on his shoulder—Wilbur’s hand, brushing against him. Wilbur leans down, his hair brushing against Tommy’s face. “Play along,” Wilbur whispers. “Be nice.”

Wilbur stands up, stretching. He’s much taller than all of them. He even towers over Sapnap and Purpled, who are not short by any means, but unfortunately, they don’t seem intimidated. Wilbur’s reputation precedes him.

“What seems to be the problem here, men?” Wilbur asks, handing Tommy his armor, hanging from a clothesline attached to a nearby tree. Fundy follows him out, scurrying behind Wilbur in a fox-like manner, his tail swishing in the wind.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Soot. You know what the problem is. You’re under arrest for making and selling drugs.”

“We told you yesterday. This isn’t a drug van, it’s a hot dog van. Can’t you read? Our answer hasn’t changed. The thing that has changed is that I have a big-ass sword now, and you seem to be slightly injured, yeah? Do you really want to test me right now?” Fundy growls.

“Who cares if I’m injured? I’m one of the most skilled fighters here, and I have two of the other most skilled people with me. And I have Tubbo,” Sapnap says.

“Hey! I can fight, too!”

“Sure, you can, champ. Now, hush.” Sapnap turns back to the three of them. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Why don’t you boys just say and have a hot dog? Come on, it’ll be on the house. Fundy, Tommy, go make these nice men some hot dogs, will you, yeah?” Wilbur nudges Fundy in the ribs. Fundy grabs Tommy’s wrist, whisking him back into the van.

“I don’t know how to make hot dogs,” Tommy hisses as Fundy starts rummaging through chests, looking for supplies.

“Improvise! How hard can it be?!” Fundy tosses a few buns to Tommy. “Go. Toast these. In the furnace. Burn them and I’ll kill you.”

“Um, how long will the wait be?” Purpled calls. Ponk slaps him on the back. “What?! I’m hungry!”

“Just a minute!” Fundy yells out the window. He’s frantically trying to get the sausage to cook and arranging all the toppings. “Do you want any condiments with that hot dog?”

“Do you have ketchup?” Tubbo calls.

“Shut up!” Sapnap says. 

“I think these are done,” Tommy says, handing the buns to Fundy. Fundy sighs.

“Well, they’re not frozen. I’ll take it. Four hot dogs, coming right up!” Fundy arranges all the hot-dogs messily, slapping them onto some paper plates and shoving them into Tommy’s arms. “Go. Deliver them.”

Tommy balances the plates on his arms, walking out of the caravan. “Four hot-dogs, piping hot! Best in the business!”

Purpled pokes the hot dog, making a disgusted face. “It’s cold.”

Ponk pulls down his mask to eat it. “This is terrible.”

“Aw, man, they forgot my ketchup,” Tubbo complains.

Sapnap examines the hot-dog. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting Tommy and Fundy to actually make it. Looking into the windows, he cannot see any drugs or brewing stands at all. It truly looks and functions just like a hot-dog stand. Still, he doesn’t seem to buy their act.

“I’m not sold. You’re under arrest.”

“What?!” Tubbo exclaims. “But they gave us food!”

“Granted, awful food, but it was food nonetheless,” Ponk adds. 

Sapnap stammers for a few seconds, struggling to find an explanation. “I don’t care! Get them! Now!”

Fundy’s eyes widen. As soon as the words leave Sapnap’s lips, Ponk and Purpled drop their hot-dogs and draw their weapons and lunge to attack them.

“Scatter!” Wilbur shouts, and Fundy grabs Tommy’s wrist, yanking him out of the way. Wilbur ducks, shimmying under the van. There is a distinctive crack of glass breaking (a splash potion, Tommy assumes) and Wilbur is gone. He knows that he is in danger, but he does not yet understand the degree of it until Fundy goes silent, pulling him into the forest and onto the trees. Purpled and Ponk are quiet, but every once in a while, Tommy hears a branch snap, and he turns back, and they are still there.

Sapnap isn’t far behind, either. He’s not making any sort of effort to conceal the fact, whooping and hollering and yelling orders at Purpled and Ponk. God, he’s annoying. 

Suddenly, Fundy jumps down from the trees. Tommy follows, spreading his wings to lighten the fall and landing lightly on his feet. He turns back just in time to watch a dark figure emerge from the trees and push Ponk off the tree. Ponk falls, and his ankle folds and there is a sickening crack as he crumples to the ground. He doesn’t scream, but his fall certainly didn’t look pleasant. Ponk makes a pitiful groan and pants in pain, and Purpled freezes.   
“Get up,” Purpled says.

“Gee whiz, why didn’t I think of that?” Ponk says through gritted teeth.

Tommy stops for a moment, too. For a moment, he forgets that Ponk is actually his enemy at the moment and starts to rush to help him up. Purpled is already trying to get him off the ground, and Sapnap isn’t far behind either, slowing down his pace and jumping down from the trees. The figure who had helped them steps into the light, and Tommy can see Eret’s stoic face from underneath his helmet.

“Eret,” Purpled growls.

“You’re our friend, Eret! Why would you do that?” Ponk says, and for a moment, there is a hint of weakness in his voice as he cradles his ankle.

“I couldn’t just stand back and watch you hunt children,” Eret says. “I’ll be escorting them for now.”

“We’ve been duped,” Purpled mutters.

“Tommy, Fundy—run. I’ll guard you as long as I can,” Eret warns. Tommy still hesitates, eyes fixated on Ponk’s limp ankle.

“He’ll be fine, Tommy. We have to go,” Fundy says, yanking Tommy’s wrist, and they run until Ponk, Purpled, and Eret are just faint silhouettes in the distance.

The two run around the server for a while, looking to hide in someplace they might not expect. Still, they eventually drifted back to Fundy’s base. Fundy locks the door and puts a massive chest in front of it, just to make sure they can’t get in. 

Tommy sits down on the floor next to one of Fundy’s foxes. “Isn’t it kind of weird that you’re half fox and you keep these here?”

“No, it’s not. We’re friends,” Fundy says as-a-matter-of-factly. “Shut up.”

“Just saying.”

They sit in silence for a moment, petting one of Fundy’s foxes. 

“Ponk will be fine, you know. He’s a tough guy. He can handle himself,” Fundy says after a while.

“I know. Why are you telling me this?”

“I saw you stop. You went to go help him back there in the forest.”

“I didn’t. I was looking to see what happened.”

“Compassion isn’t a bad thing. You can admit it. Ponk is your friend.”

“We are definitely not friends. I barely know him.”

“But you stopped.”

Tommy considers this for a moment. He supposes he did stop, but he doesn’t quite know why. He isn’t lying about not being friends with Ponk—it’s true they’ve only spoken a few times before. And he certainly isn’t compassionate, he’s tough and ruthless, which is just common knowledge.

“I heard Ponk’s ankle crack,” Tommy finally says. “It was strategic. I was looking to make sure that he couldn’t follow us.”

Fundy nods, but he doesn’t seem to buy Tommy’s story. Tommy would keep arguing, but he wants nothing more than to drop this subject. He’s not compassionate or kind, and he doesn’t want Fundy accidentally thinking he is.

The night deepens, and Tommy starts to drift off. The grass is soft and the ambiance is quiet. Fundy looks like he’s battling to stay awake, and after a while, Tommy looks over, and Fundy is fast asleep, curled up with his head resting near one of his foxes and his jacket laid on him neatly like a blanket. A little while later, Tommy starts to fall asleep too, with his head in his hands and his wings wrapped around his body. 

Tommy isn’t sure how long he sleeps for. It seems like minutes and hours at the same time. However, he is awakened by a sharp rap on the door. 

He wakes up with a start, shooting up to a sitting position. It’s still night; he can tell from the moonlight shining through the windows. 

Tommy’s first thought is _Sapnap._ He must’ve found them, they’ve been sitting here for way too long. Fundy’s house isn’t exactly discreet, and Sapnap is smarter than he lets on. He must’ve known where they’ve fled. Fundy is still asleep, and Tommy is barely awake. There’s no way they could fight him now. They need to hide. Tommy rummages in Fundy’s nearby chests, searching for something, anything that could help him. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Tommy comes across a jackpot—a splash potion of invisibility. Tommy splashes the potion on the floor in between him and Fundy, looking down to make sure he’s invisible before approaching the door.

Tommy opens the door meekly, hiding behind it despite being invisible. However, he finds nobody there. At first, he thinks that Sapnap may be invisible until he spots a note pinned to the door. There’s a set of footsteps in the dirt, but they lead away from the door. Someone must’ve left the note there before running off. 

Tommy seizes the note, quickly closing the door. As he does so, he hears noises of people shuffling outside, and Sapnap’s voice.

“Come on, Ponk, you idiot, get off your ass. We’re going to lose him,” Sapnap is saying.

“Pay me more gold and I’ll think about it, asshole.”

“Lay off him, Sap, his ankle is busted. Do you have another healing potion?”

“We don’t have time! We have to keep following Wilbur. Keep going. You can have the healing potion when we catch Wilbur.”

Tommy hears the three of them stop in front of Fundy’s door. His breath hitches nervously.

“He can’t be in there, right?” Ponk says. “Even he’s not that dumb, right?”

“There are footsteps leading away from it. He’s not there. Let’s keep going,” Purpled says, and their voices fade into the night.

Tommy exhales a sigh of relief, and by the faint moonlight, manages to make out the words scribbled onto the letter.

_I know you’re here. Meet me back at the caravan, soon. Don’t worry about Sapnap, I’ll draw them away. We have much to discuss. Quickly._

_Signed, WS_

Tommy smiles. He should’ve known that Wilbur thought ahead for this. Wilbur is stupid, but he isn’t dumb.

Tommy shakes Fundy awake. He rubs his eyes groggily.

“Hey. Hey. Yo, bitchboy, get up! Get up, dickhead!” Tommy whispers.

“What’s going on?” Fundy asks sleepily.

“We’ve just received a message from Wilbur. We’re going back to the caravan. Get your things. Let’s go,” Tommy said, dragging Fundy up by the sleeve.

“Why am I invisible? Why are you invisible?”

“Splash potion.”

“You stole my splash potion?”

Tommy sputters. “I...I thought Wilbur was Sapnap, okay?! I was in a tight spot!”

Fundy cracks a small smile, or at least Tommy thinks he does, since he can’t actually see him. “I know. I was joking.”

“Oh. It wasn’t funny.”

“I think it was.”

“Whatever, prick. Let’s go.”

Fundy gives one last pet to his foxes before following Tommy out the door, back onto the Prime Path, and disappearing into the night.

“Tubbo?”

The caravan is well-lit and lively. It still smells slightly of burning (probably from the blaze rods) and there is some sort of mystery meat (presumably for hot dogs) sizzling on the grill nearby. Wilbur has decorated more since they’ve been gone, though. There’s now a table and some chairs in the center of the back part of the caravan and a few miscellaneous colored banners hanging from the walls. 

“Hello, Tommy,” Tubbo says cheerfully. He is sitting to Wilbur’s left, fiddling with the yellow tablecloth nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. As if Tubbo hadn’t been aiming a sword at Tommy’s head hours before.

“What the fuck?” Tommy shouts, for lack of a better way to express his feelings. “What the hell are you doing here, you stupid bastard-”

“Tommy. Calm down. It’s okay,” Wilbur says. His jacket is slightly torn up, his hair tousled, his wings battered, and his eyes wild. He looks like he hasn’t slept in hours, probably from running from Sapnap and his goons. “Tubbo is with us now.”

“I couldn’t bear to see Sapnap hurt you like that,” Tubbo says, now more serious. “He told me you were doing bad things. I didn’t know that was in response to Sapnap shooting you, Jesus…”

Tommy relaxes slightly. Fundy stands behind him, tight-lipped and silent. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still quite upset. I mean…” Tommy laughs, unsure of how to express it otherwise. “Sapnap tried to kill us several times today. We’ve been having a pretty awful time.”

“Yeah, you look it. You two should shower. You reek,” Wilbur says.

“Well, gee, sorry for not having time to reapply my deodorant. I don’t know if you’re aware but I’ve been hunted down like an animal-”

“Hey!” Fundy interjects indignantly.

Tommy ignores Fundy. “-all day, so I _apologize_ if my scent isn’t up to standards, you stupid bastard-”

“Tommy, be quiet. We have more important issues than your body odor right now. Sapnap doesn’t know we’re here now, but he will soon, and he’ll be here with Ponk and Purpled soon enough. We need to do something about it,” Wilbur says, standing up and pacing around the room.

“I say we sleep. Ponk is injured pretty badly, and Sapnap is getting incredibly annoyed with him. Knowing Purpled, he’ll decide he doesn’t care anymore in a few hours and will give up entirely. Eret is still keeping them busy, too. We shouldn’t expect them to come back until tomorrow morning,” Tommy announces.

Fundy chews his lip. “Are you sure? Sapnap is a pretty skilled fighter. If he comes here, and we’re asleep, we’re dead meat. Yes, Ponk is injured, and Purpled is only okay at fighting, not excellent, like he lets off, but our resources are so scarce that I doubt we can take them if they show up.”

Wilbur considers both. “You have a point, but I think Tommy may be right. We can take shifts sleeping, but there’s no point in trying to figure out anything today. There’s beds in the back room, Tubbo, by the way. Go to sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”

Fundy and Tubbo both nod, going to the very back of the caravan. Tommy, however, hesitates, staying behind for a moment, following Wilbur out the front of the caravan.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll be okay, right?”

Wilbur looks up. The sky is pitch black and sprinkled with stars that reflect in his dark eyes. “Tommy, do you know what Tubbo said to me when he came here?”

“What?”

“He said ‘I want to be on the right side of history’ before giving me half a stack of blaze rods. And you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize he’s right. Sapnap is acting like a tyrant right now. A few years down the line, do we want to be remembered as the people who had a chance to stand up to Sapnap and didn’t take it, or do we want to be the heroes who dared to want a better, more drug-prevalent future?” Wilbur shakes his head, sighing.

“I don’t know if we’ll be okay, Tommy, honestly. But I don’t think it matters that much. Not when we’re on the right side of history.”

Tommy smiles slightly. “We’re on the right side of history,” he repeats.

“That’s right.” Wilbur playfully slaps Tommy on the back. “Now, go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s your shift, okay?”

Tommy nods, dragging himself up the steps of the caravan, taking one last look at Wilbur, sitting on his jacket outside, before finally going inside to sleep. Wilbur was right. They were on the right side of history.


	3. tommy.

“Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.”

Tommy blinks his eyes open, rubbing his eyes to see Wilbur standing over him, poking him in the arm.

“What?” Tommy asks, yawning.

“Sapnap’s here.”

At this, Tommy springs up in his bed, totally awake. “Is everything okay? Do I need to hide?”

“Well, I don’t know, that’s why I’m waking you up to talk to him!”

“Why me?! He already shot me once!”

“Just come on!”

Tommy grumbles some curses and complaints under his bed, but assumes that if Wilbur is being so playful about it, that it must not be urgent. He grabs his deodorant on his way out of the van, shielding his eyes from the mid-morning sun as he walks outside. Sure enough, Sapnap is standing outside, holding some blaze rods.

Tommy frowns, confused. “Why are you here, Shitnap?”

Sapnap sighs. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Why? Last time I saw you, you seemed quite trigger happy.”

Sapnap ruffles his hair, shifting his weight. “I talked to Eret. You guys are just kids messing around. I already hurt you in the process. Look, you, Tubbo, Fundy...you may be young, but you’re not stupid. I know that if Wilbur was seriously endangering you, you’d do the smart thing and leave. By running around and spending my time chasing and hurting you, I’m no better than Wilbur. So, I’m sorry. You can have my blaze rods, by the way. If you’re a good enough fighter, like me, you won’t need them, anyway.”

Sapnap hands the blaze rods to Wilbur, who immediately pockets them. Tommy nods.

“Appreciated, I suppose. You did still shoot me, though. You can’t buy our peace.”

Wilbur nods in agreement. “Once an American, always an American.”

Sapnap groans. “Really? You’re making it about this, now?”

“Go shoot up a Walmart or something,” Wilbur adds.

“I just told you that I changed and this is how you respond?” Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Listen, I’m not trying to join or anything. I don’t want to be around British people anyway.”

“Aren’t you friends with George? Isn’t he British?” Tommy asks.

“Well, I’d hardly say George counts as a person, but that’s beside the point. I kinda like brewing, but I’ve decided that you guys can probably do it better than me anyway. So, just take the blaze rods, and when your little...drug empire...thing gets big, just sell me stuff if I ever need it. Okay?”

“Empire?” Wilbur chuckles. “I’d hardly call it that, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. We’re going to leave now, if that’s alright.”

Sapnap nods. “This has been more than enough interaction with Europeans for today for me. Bye. Have a nice life.”

As Sapnap walks away, Tommy turns behind him. Fundy and Tubbo are both standing in the doorway of the caravan, looking onto them. Tubbo’s wearing Fundy’s jacket and rubbing his eyes, his dark hair tousled. Fundy’s is covered by his gold-gilded hat. 

“What happened?” Fundy asks, stepping forward. Wilbur gives Fundy a quick hug, ruffling his hair.

“Good morning, son. Nothing happened. Sapnap came to apologize. He gave us more blaze rods.”

“Oh.”

Tommy bursts into laughter suddenly. “He called us an empire. An empire. Can you imagine? Us, a new empire?”

“That would be amazing. The only reason Sapnap has power is because of Dream, and I mean...we know we can’t take Dream, even if it was all four of us. It’s the reason we wouldn’t be able to hurt Sapnap, even if we could. Sapnap will always go back to Dream, and Dream...well, he’s a force to be reckoned with,” Fundy says.

“I must admit, if...whatever this is...involves hurting Sapnap, or anyone, for that matter, I’m not sure if I’d like to participate,” Tubbo interjects. “I want to help you guys, but we’ll all have to report back to Dream eventually. If one of you kills Sapnap or his allies, Dream will have our heads for it. You know how he and Sapnap are, er...close. I don’t want to be associated with that kind of violence.”

“If only we weren’t on Dream’s land,” Tommy says wistfully.

Wilbur is quiet. “What if we weren’t?”

“How do you mean?”

“What if we did what Sapnap suggested and started a new country?”

Fundy scoffs. “That’d solve everything. We could ban violence.”

“We could ban Americans,” Tommy adds.

“Make drugs legal,” Tubbo suggests.

“Yeah. What if we seceded from the Dream SMP?” Tommy and Tubbo were half-joking, but Wilbur’s voice is dead serious. .

Tommy, Fundy, and Tubbo exchange glances.

“Surely not,” Tubbo says. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. I mean, why not? Why can’t we make a new country? If we don’t agree with Sapnap and his horrid policies, then let’s make our own. We don’t need Dream,” Wilbur says, standing up a little taller, straightening his spine. His brown curls blow in the hair lazily.

Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy look around at each other.

“I don’t see why not,” Tommy says. 

Wilbur smiles mischievously. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s secede.”

“Wooooo!” Tubbo cheers. Fundy and Tommy join in, clapping and whooping and cheering loudly.

“We have some more pressing problems, though. Sapnap may have apologized now, but that won’t mean he’s gone forever. Just because we say that we’re a new country doesn’t mean that he’ll listen. We need to ask Dream, too, and-” Fundy starters. Wilbur waves his hand, dismissing him.

“Ask for forgiveness, Fundy, not permission. And don’t worry, my son, we’ll take care of Sapnap,” Wilbur says, ruffling Fundy’s hair. “Yes, we will, my little bitty boy! Who’s my little wittle baby? Who’s the best wittle foxy baby boy in the world? It’s you! It’s you! It’s-”

Fundy slaps Wilbur’s hand away, scowling. Tommy and Tubbo exchange glances, holding back laughter. “That’s enough, Will.”

Wilbur clears his throat. Fundy adjusts his hat. “Yes, of course. Does anyone have concrete powder?”

“No, but we’re near a river, so we can get some. What color?” Tommy asks.

“Hmm...what color should it be? How does black and yellow sound? I want it to be so obnoxious that no one could miss it.”

“Like bee colors?” Tommy asks.

“Bees?!” Tubbo exclaims. “Oh my god, I love bees!”

Wilbur, Tommy, and Fundy start laughing. Wilbur ruffles Tubbo’s hair. “We know, Tubs, we know. Listen,” Wilbur puts his hand on the table. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Dream around, much less wandering around in the forest. It’ll take him some time to figure out what we’re doing. Even Sapnap isn’t yet aware that we are actually making a new country. So, we have some time. I want you to collect as much black and yellow concrete powder as you can, and we’re going to build up walls around our new country. Our country doesn’t need to be big, it just needs to exist. We can build the borders around the caravan, as high as we possibly can. That way, Dream can’t say no. I mean, how could he, if we’re already gone? Can you two do that?” Wilbur signals to Tommy and Tubbo, who both nod promptly. 

“Tubbo, let’s go. We’re going to need a lot of sand and a lot of gravel,” Tommy says, smiling gleefully.

“I’ll get the dye,” Fundy offers.

“Let’s build our new country,” Wilbur says, smiling. 

The walls rise steadily. Tommy and Tubbo remain hard at work throughout the day, building them as high as possible, and Fundy and Wilbur take turns standing guard and gathering supplies. Tommy’s bones ache with exhaustion, but he just keeps moving, and he just keeps working to build the walls even higher. 

“What do you reckon we should call our country?” Wilbur asks, leaning on the finished portion of the wall. 

“I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot,” Tommy says. “There are no women in our new country, so what say we call it ‘Mantopia?’” 

“There were women here,” Tubbo says. “Have you forgotten about Sally?”

“Oo-oooooh~ Sally~” Tommy says in a singsong voice, poking Wilbur, who sighs wistfully.

“Oh, Sally...how I miss you. How my lips long for yours, how my body yearns for-”

“Okay, that’s quite enough now! We don’t need to hear more! That’s beside the point, anyway. What do you think of Mantopia?” Tommy cuts Wilbur off.

“I don’t know, it sounds a little...hm...incel-y. Besides, just because we don’t have any women right now doesn’t mean that we won’t in the future. We don’t hold any bounds on race, sexuality, or gender, as long as you’re not American,” Wilbur admits.

“What’s an incel?” Tubbo asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wilbur says.

“So, anyone can come work or live here?” Tommy asks.

“Yes, anyone.”

“Even women?”

“Er—I wouldn’t put it like that, Tommy, but yes, even women!”

“Wow! Even women! Can you believe that?” Tommy repeats, astounded.

“Okay, how about this? Instead of Mantopia, we call it Manberg. That sounds a tad better, don’t you think?” Tubbo asks.

“Manberg is fine, but how do we make it European?” Wilbur asks.

“Add a ‘L’ to it, like the French do. Le Manberg,” Tubbo suggests.

“It’d be ‘L’Manberg’ then, I believe. The French would say ‘L’Manberg,’” Wilbur says.

“Do we really want to take inspiration from the French? What have they ever done right?” Tommy says, shaking his head.

“Well, they’re quite experienced in revolutions, so maybe we should. Besides, ‘L’Manberg’ sounds loads better than ‘Manbergshire’ or whatever us Brits may say,” Wilbur says.

“So it’s decided, then? We’ll be calling ourselves L’Manberg?” Tommy asks.

“L’Manberg it is,” Wilbur concludes.

“Yay! L’Manberg!” Tubbo cheers.

“The walls are looking good, by the way. You’ve done well, you two,” Wilbur says, nodding at them. 

“Thanks! We-”

Tubbo is interrupted by Fundy sprinting at them as fast as he can, with a panicked look on his face. He’s holding a bundle of dandelions (probably for yellow dye for the walls) and panting. Tommy doesn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, he must’ve run the whole way back.

“Fundy? What’s wrong?” Wilbur asks, standing up straight and taking the dandelions from Fundy. Fundy hunches over, breathing heavily.

“It’s Dream. He knows. About this.”

Tommy and Tubbo exchange worried glances. Dream, the supreme leader of the SMP, is a force to be reckoned with. All of those known for being excellent fighters—Sapnap, Punz, Purpled, George, Bad—Dream has beat them all in hand-to-hand combat with only an axe and shield. He is not only the most skilled person on the SMP, but the richest, too. He’s always found grinding for materials and supplies, doing the absolute most to make sure no one could ever beat him. It wouldn’t matter if it was a fair fight or not, Dream would win anyway.

Now, the four of them, who don’t even have diamond armor, will be purposely angering him.

“Surely, he’s not going to fight us, is he?” Tubbo asks. “If he fights us, we’re dead. None of us stand a chance.”

“Sapnap almost killed me. We would’ve died to Ponk and Purpled if Eret hadn’t stepped in. And Sapnap, he was holding back, because he knows we’re children. Dream...I’m not positive he’ll care,” Tommy agrees.

“Now, now. Let’s not assume the worst. These are just rumors and stories, and there are stories from both sides. Haven’t you heard of how George and Sapnap speak of Dream? Dream is a skilled fighter and strategist, but he is also a person who just wants to keep this place in harmony. I’ve heard that one time, George accidentally fell into a hole and Dream laughed so hard he almost pissed himself. Or, how Dream still keeps the leather from his first horse, Spirit, which he mourned for weeks after its death,” Wilbur says.

Tommy and Tubbo still exchange worried looks. “But those are George and Sapnap. You know how they’re...close. We’re some random child rebels who George and Sapnap already dislike,” Tubbo says.

“He’s right. On my first day here, I was jailed and exiled for trying to hit George. I wasn’t even trying to kill him, I just wanted to spar. I avoided it just because Dream got bored of messing with me. By being associated with me, all of you are at risk, too. Fundy, how long would you say we have before Dream gets here?” Tommy asks.

“A few hours at best. Punz saw our walls from his tower and told Sapnap, who told Dream. He’s surely not on his way now—he’ll need some time to prepare, and besides, this won’t be an urgent concern for him. I’d say we have until nightfall, at best,” Fundy says.

“Honestly, though—is it even worth preparing? Maybe we should just say these walls are a fun build around the camarvan and forget about L’Manberg,” Tubbo says sadly. 

“No. We can figure it out as we go, but I’m not going to let us give up before we even start. We can keep building up these walls. Hopefully, by the time Dream shows up, we’ll have bigger walls to make him less likely to kill us on sight,” Wilbur says. “It’s just talking. How bad could this be?”

“Maybe we can start thinking of laws to make!” Tubbo suggests.

“Okay. Law number one: no Americans,” Wilbur announces.

“Amen!!” Tommy shouts. 

“For law number two, can we ban armor in L’Manberg? And weapons, too? Everyone should be equal here, and that won’t work if we’re always being terrorized by people with more supplies than us,” Tubbo asks. Wilbur slaps Tubbo on the back affectionately, almost knocking him off the wall. 

“Now we’re talking! Yes, no armor and no weapons. We should resolve all conflict through non-violent means. With our words. Tommy, give me a war-winning word,” Wilbur says, pointing at Tommy.

Tommy clears his throat, standing up on the wall. “Syllable.”

Wilbur and Tubbo both start whooping and cheering. “There you go! That’s a war-winning word!”

Tommy smiles proudly. “Okay, here’s another one—press-down.”

Wilbur frowns. “That’s two words.”

“No, it’s not. It’s hyphenated. One word. Press-down.”

Wilbur starts cheering again. “That’s my brother! Tommy, everyone! Good night!”

Fundy growls in annoyance. “We could be dying in a few hours and you people are celebrating...press-downs?”

“It’s a good word!”

“We should keep building. I’m going to mine for more diamonds. If we have to face Dream, I don’t want to be caught off-guard,” Fundy says seriously, brushing himself off and adjusting his jacket before scampering off into the forest.

“That guy is such a wet blanket,” Tommy mutters. “We’ll be fine. Dream loves me! One time, I almost ate his pet fish and he didn’t blow me to smithereens!”

Tubbo laughs, but he looks uneasy as well. Looking around at his brothers, Tommy realizes that none of them really know Dream all that well. With Sapnap, they could begin to anticipate his moves because he was always around. Even if they weren’t really friends, they got to know him pretty well just from being in close proximity with him, in the same way that you got to know people in school from being in the same class. 

Dream, however?

It wasn’t that Dream was never around. He was always somewhere, but Dream was this untouchable figure whose aura reeked of power. Tommy had only ever spoken to Dream a few times, and never directly. Speaking to Dream was like speaking to the Prime Minister or the Queen—Dream was a man of utmost importance as the supreme ruler of the Dream SMP, and he was rarely ever casual or unprofessional around them. Any stories of Dream’s compassion or true personality of any sort came from those who knew him well, but never him. Ponk claims to have a great deal of stories about him, claiming to have pictures of him piss-drunk, but Ponk lies a lot. 

The more Tommy thinks about it, the more he realizes that he hasn’t ever seen Wilbur, Fundy, or Tubbo speak to Dream. Tommy was the first to move to the Dream SMP, and Tubbo, Fundy, and Wilbur followed soon after. However, in the end, they moved for Tommy, not for Dream. And Tommy moved out to get away from his brothers—still not for Dream. There are few people living there who really, truly know Dream. It makes it impossible to anticipate Dream’s moves. They’re left to prepare and assume the worst—and the worst is really, really bad. Tommy doesn’t want to think about it.

“Let’s just keep building,” Tubbo says. He seems to feel Tommy's thoughts. “There’s no use worrying about it right now.”

“Tubs, you have armor, right?” Tommy asks.

“I do.”

“Good. I’d feel better if someone other than Fundy had armor.”

“It won’t get to that. We’ll prove Fundy wrong.”

“You seem awfully optimistic.”

“Would you rather I tell you that we’re going to die tonight?”

Tommy considers this.

“No,” Tommy says. “No, not really.” 

“Like Wilbur said. We’ll keep working on the wall. We’re just going to talk. How bad can it be?” Tubbo says. 

Night falls a few hours later, and it starts to rain a little before that. Fundy returns with a full set of enchanted diamond armor, and he sits down, sharpening his ax, watching Tommy and Tubbo keep building. Wilbur joins in at some point, trying to keep their spirits lifted. 

“Wilbur? I need more dye! Do you have ink sacs?” Tubbo shouts into the night, trying to brush his hair out his face. It’s dark and stringy, and stuck to his forehead, covering his eyes. It hasn’t stopped pouring for the last few hours, and the night has only made it colder. Tommy’s teeth have been chattering steadily for the past few hours with no sign of stopping, but the last thing he wants to do right now is go inside and stop building the walls.

“Yeah, come here. I have some more ink,” WIlbur calls in return from somewhere in the trees.

“Okay, I’m on my way. Where are you?” 

“Use your eyes, dumbass!”

“I can’t see because of the rain! It’s dark!”

“Just see!”

“Oh, wait, I see you! Why are you wearing armor? Oh…” Tubbo’s smile falters. 

Tommy rubs his eyes, looking at the spot where Tubbo was staring at. Tubbo is right; it’s raining hard, and it’s so dark and wooded that it’s hard to see, but through the tree branches, Tommy can make out the unmistakable gleam of enchanted armor glowing purple in the dark. He jumps down from a wall, picking up a pair of sticks from the ground. Wilbur jumps down from a nearby tree as well, standing in front of Tubbo and Tommy protectively. Fundy scurries behind the wall, hiding from Dream.

“Dream?” Wilbur says. “Is that you?”

“Wilbur.”

Dream’s voice is deep and quiet. There’s a sort of natural roughness in his voice that sends chills down Tommy’s spine. Wilbur is taller than Dream, but something about Dream makes him look very, very small next to him. Maybe it’s the enchanted netherite axe or the crossbow slung over his shoulders, or maybe it’s the eerie smiling mask, pushed up just high enough on his face so they could see his lips. His dark blond hair peeks over his mask slightly.

“What’s going on here?”

Tubbo fidgets in place, bouncing his leg and turning around to make sure Fundy is still there. Every muscle in Tommy’s body is screaming at him to run. He doesn’t. He stays by Wilbur’s side.

“Nothing. We’re building some walls. Why do you ask?” Wilbur replies curtly.

Dream lightly runs his fingers on the wall. It reaches up to his chest at this point. He could easily jump over it. Tommy curses himself for not building faster. They could’ve gotten them higher, so he would have no choice but to comply. Slowly, Dream lets his axe drag behind him as he examines the wall.

“I heard from someone...are you planning to secede?”

“We are, indeed. This is going to be our land now, with our rules. We’re going to be separate from the Dream SMP. We’re called L’Manberg. Unfortunately, you can’t join—one of our laws is that no Americans are allowed.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Dream’s eyes are covered by his mask, but Tommy can see gears shifting in his brain regardless. “And what if I say no?”

“Well, you can’t. We’re a new country. You can’t just control a country that isn’t yours.”

“Oh, come on, now.”

Dream jumps the wall, swinging his body over it easily. Tubbo opens his mouth to protest, but silences himself as Dream’s axe sparkles in the soft yellow light from the van.

“All of this is my land, Wilbur. You can’t just decide to take it as you please.”

“How is this any different from the formation of the Badlands?”

“The Badlands only claimed unsettled land, far away from here. This is within the bounds of the Dream SMP, and therefore belongs to me.”

“Well, that’s the point of secession. It doesn’t belong to you now.”

“How do you plan on getting me to agree to this?”

“Ask for forgiveness, Clay, not permission,” Wilbur says, trying to put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. Dream slaps it away before Wilbur can even get close.

“Don’t call me that.”

Dream regains his composure, standing up straighter and walking past Wilbur, examining the territory. “Let me try to understand. You decided to found...L’Manchild...on already claimed land in order to get Sapnap to stop killing you for selling illegal drugs?”

“Well—I—okay, drugs is a strong word-” Wilbur stammers out, jogging to catch up to Dream. “And I must mention—armor and weapons are illegal in L’Manberg, and so are Americans, so we’re going to need you to leave immediately.”

Dream ignores Wilbur, slowly pacing around the van. “And now, you’re asking me to just...give you this land? For nothing in return?”

“Well, technically, we didn’t ask, you just showed up,” Wilbur corrects. “But yes. L’Manberg is our territory now. We will no longer pay taxes to you. It’s not too much I ask, I think. I mean, it’s just this bit of land. We don’t need anything from the outside world. All we need is our L’Manberg. Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy may need to leave a few times to retrieve their things to fully move in, but we’re willing to set up an embassy. We’re civil people, you know. We don’t want to be violent, we just want to have freedom from you. No offense.”

“I just don’t see the need for L’Manchild, if I’m being honest,” Dream says, running a hand through his wet hair. “What policies of mine do you have issues with, exactly?”

“All of them! All the time!” Tommy pipes up. “All this ‘no making iron farms,’ ‘killing other people is allowed as long as it’s not George,’ ‘pay for upkeep fees to live here,’ it’s all a load of bullshit.”

“Sorry, is that a child speaking here? What is that thing doing involved in these kinds of politics?” Dream asks, shaking his head and sighing. “My rules aren’t unreasonable, Wilbur. There’s a reason why we have those rules. And ‘no killing George’ isn’t a rule, either. You’re taking things out of context.”

“Does it matter? If we’re our own country, we won’t have to deal with these sorts of political disagreements. We can agree to be separate. Personally, I think it’s beneficial for everyone. We can go our separate ways and avoid civil war. Nobody wants that, do we?” Wilbur asks, looking to Tubbo and Tommy for support. Tommy nods enthusiastically.

“Well, I’d hardly call it civil war. I mean…” Dream scans Wilbur up and down. “You have no armor and no shield. You’re armed with sticks. One hit with my axe and you’re dead.” 

“My point still stands. It’s beneficial for everyone. We get peace, you get rid of us, and also an embassy. It’s a win-win-win situation for all of us,” Wilbur says.

“Hm. See, the way I see it…” Dream drags out his words, slightly flexing his biceps as he touches the hilt of his ax. “If I killed you right now, I would get rid of you and also keep my land.”

“Please don’t do that. There are children here now, have some decency.”

Dream faces Wilbur directly, grabbing the collar of his jacket. “Listen here, Wilbur, because I’m only going to say this once. You’re playing with fire right now. Do not be surprised when you burn in it. I’m going to leave now, because right now, you’re a mere nuisance and you aren’t harming anyone. However, this isn’t over. If you continue down this path, I’ll have no choice but to put you back in your place. You and I both know that it won’t be a contest. I don’t want to hurt you, Wilbur. But I won’t hesitate to kill you and your family if you keep testing me.”

Dream releases Wilbur, who stumbles back a few steps. Tommy takes Wilbur’s right hand, squeezing it as tight as he can, looking for any scrap of comfort in his brother that he can find. Dream pulls out his crossbow and aims it behind him without looking, letting the arrow fly. It hits a tree branch, barely missing Fundy’s left ear.

“I want you to hear this too, Fundy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you hiding over there. You’re welcome to keep your little walls up and your van. I may even be willing to turn a blind eye to your drug business as long as you don’t steal from others to get it started. But rest assured, you will not secede from the Dream SMP, whether it be by choice or by force. Choose wisely. We all know you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” Dream heaves his crossbow over his shoulder, jumping back over the walls and putting his green hood up. “I’m going now. But I’ll be back. I’ll be back.”

Dream smashes a splash potion of invisibility at his feet and disappears into the forest silently. The four of them stay there for a while, staring at the spot where Dream used to be, listening to the sound of the rain pattering on the trees. Wilbur sinks to his knees, and Tommy puts his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. Fundy creeps out from behind the wall, approaching Wilbur and sitting down next to him. Tubbo takes Wilbur’s beanie, squeezing it and trying to strain the rainwater out of it.

“That went…” Tommy starts.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” 

“He didn’t kill us,” Tubbo offers. “That’s a start.”

“But he said he would if we didn’t stop,” Fundy corrects.

Wilbur sighs. “Tubbo, maybe you were right. Maybe it’s time to give up.”

“Are you mad? No, Wilbur. We’re already in too deep. If anything, this just proves why we need L’Manberg. Dream has constant power over us, and I’m sick of it. We need freedom more than anything. If we die in the process, who’s to say that wouldn’t’ve happened anyway because of Dream? But…” Tommy pauses. “There’s always a chance that we won’t die in the process, and we can be free from Dream’s tyranny. The least we could do is try,” Tommy says.

Fundy nods in agreement, helping Wilbur to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go inside. We’re all soaking.”


	4. eret.

It’s been a little over two days since Eret fought Ponk and Purpled in the forest. Eret doesn’t truly know the full story of what happened there, but in speaking to Punz, he thinks he has the gist of it. Sort of. 

“Let me get this straight,” Eret rubs their temples. “Wilbur was making drugs in his van for fun with his brothers, affecting literally no one...so Sapnap decided to shoot and almost kill Tommy, then come back with mercenaries to chase them for hours on end?” 

Punz pops a chip into his mouth. “Yeah. That’s the gist,” he says through a mouthful of salt and vinegar. Eret cringes at the sight. His white hoodie is almost entirely covered in crumbs. Gross. Eret wants to say “Damn, bitch, you live like this?” He holds his tongue. 

“Whose side am I supposed to be on, then?” 

Punz shrugs. “I don’t know, dude. I don’t care. I’m just with whoever Dream’s with. I don’t particularly care about any of them, and I doubt I’ll start unless they start coughing up some cash.”

“Oh. Right. You’re a mercenary, too.”

“I am.”

Eret runs a hand through his curly hair. Punz shoves more chips into his mouth. 

“Could you stop that?”

“No.”

“Ugh.” Eret stands up off Punz’s couch. “I’ll be on my way, then. I think I have some business to attend to. Thank you for having me.”

“Want chips?” Punz gestures to the open bag of chips next to him. Eret cringes, shaking his head.

“I insist you keep those to yourself. Bye, Punz.”

“Bye, Eret.”

Eret steps out of Punz’s tower and onto the Prime Path. It rained the night before and the ground is still damp, but the wind blows Eret’s hair playfully, and the day is clear as they walk down the path. They lower their sunglasses slightly to catch a better look at the destruction of the Prime Path from the fight. Nothing is very physically damaged, but the wood of the path is splintering from being hit with an axe in certain spots, and Eret can see trails and drops of blood on the ground, particularly in front of Tommy’s house. 

Eret had walked away mostly unscathed. Not to say that she was the best fighter around, but they were experienced, and they were careful. Sure, Ponk was injured, but Eret reckons he could’ve taken them even if Ponk was at full health. Purpled is a young teenager, and he’s a few inches shorter than Eret anyway. Ponk is almost a full head and a half shorter than him, more if she’s wearing her platforms. Plus, Eret likes to think he’s a nice person. The sheer sight of her, a descendant of the legendary Herobrine, who is normally pretty peaceful, hunkered down and ready to fight is enough to send most people running the other way. Ponk and Purpled were no exception to that. Eret managed to hold them off for almost half an hour—more than enough time for Tommy and Fundy to get away. He managed to slip away with only a few nicks from Purpled’s sword—Purpled, of course, not knowing that an axe would do more damage. Eret is unsure if Purpled is even physically strong enough to hold an axe, even though they would never say that out loud.

Eret didn’t know it at the time, but now she has made three realizations.

The first is that they care about Tommy and Fundy, for some reason. Maybe it’s just because they’re children. Eret isn’t old by any means, but she is a good deal older than Tommy and Fundy. Some sort of fatherly instinct in her just awakened when he saw Tommy and Fundy, two children, sprinting away from mercenaries. No one should have to deal with that, of course, but especially not kids. It seems cruel, even to Eret. He wants to stop that from happening again. Peace is the ultimate goal. 

The second is that she is young, and eager to rise to the top. This is less of a realization—Eret already knew this, of course. But it stands true. Eret doesn’t care for much on the SMP. She likes children, she supposes. But unlike everyone else, Eret has no prior attachments to anyone or anything else. They came to the SMP for money and power, and that’s really, the only thing he legitimately cares about. That leads to the third and final realization—the realization that Dream should not be in charge of Eret.

Eret is aware of all the good Dream does for him and everyone else. He’s heard the stories of the valiant battles Dream has endured for his loved ones. They’ve heard how George gushes about him when he isn’t around, tales of Dream’s quiet endurance and effortless charm. Still, when Eret considers the events that happened, he realizes that he has never once seen Dream personally do anything good. They’ve only ever heard from George and Sapnap, and they cannot be the most reliable narrators. He would be much better if he was in charge, he thinks to himself. Not that Dream would ever even think of offering her any sort of power. Everyone seems to know and understand that the Dream SMP runs on dibs and seniority, and Eret is just the poor schmuck that got there last. They’ll never be able to gain even half the amount of Dream’s power.

Eret has no plans to be a cruel leader or a dictator by any means. If he had it his way, he would simply sit on the throne peacefully and go to sleep every day, knowing that they are respected. They’re not picky about what country it is or what it’s like. As long as they have a stake in it.

Eret knows that Dream isn’t all bad. He’s done some good, of course, but Eret is unsure if it will ever be able to cancel out the horrible things he’s done. Put simply, the SMP is in need of a new ruler. And if Eret cannot be the ruler in the Dream SMP, he will find that power elsewhere. As long as she’s involved in the leadership, she doesn’t particularly care what it is. Having Dream gone is a good bonus.

Eret glances up and down the Prime Path. He can’t see anyone nearby. In the distance, he can see the faint silhouettes of Callahan and Alyssa sparring, but they’re too far away and too focused on their task at hand to be able to see what Eret is about to do.

Eret steps off the Prime Path and darts into the forest.

The forest is thicker in some parts than others; a combination of tall, thick spruce and oak trees and even a few lingering birches. The sun is largely obscured by the canopy except for a few stray patches that leak through the leaves. At some point, Eret even has to take off her sunglasses and expose her pure white eyes to see. Their gray-green shirt loosely blows in the hot summer wind as they continue making their way through the forest, slicing down stray branches in her way with his axe.

Eventually, the wilderness starts to clear, and Eret can start to see faint trails in the grass, places where the grass is flatter, where branches are visibly chopped off trees, and small sections where the lush greenery starts to thin. After traveling for a little longer, Eret can finally see the yellow and black walls.

Eret wipes the sweat off his brow, putting his sunglasses back on and standing at the edge of the creek for a moment. Whatever this place is, it has grown noticeably since the fight a few nights ago. The walls weren’t there before, and they’re steadily growing. The van is still lit and smoking, per usual, and clothes hang from a clothesline outside. Eret can see Tommy and Tubbo playfully sparring and rolling around in the grass outside the van, inside the walls, holding sticks as swords. Fundy watches from a distance, sewing a rip in his jacket while Wilbur slowly waltzes around the grass to slow, dramatic music, playing from a jukebox just outside the van. He dances alone, placing his hands on an imaginary person’s waist and shoulder, gracefully swaying from side to side. 

Even though Eret could just scale the walls, he decides not to. Perhaps it would be best to not immediately break their trust, she thinks to herself. Instead, they creep around the side, coming to the entrance of the walls. Fundy notices Eret standing there and tugs on Wilbur’s jacket to get his attention, gesturing to Eret, who awkwardly waves.

Tommy and Tubbo stop playing, and Wilbur stops dancing. Tommy takes out his disc, a deep violet one, which Eret recognizes—mellohi.

“Eret?” Tommy asks, approaching the entrance of the walls. “Er—you can come in. If you’d like. What are you doing here?”

Tommy opens the gate to the walls—just a plain wooden fence gate with “BIG MAN TOMMY WAS HERE” etched in deeply with a knife. It probably grants them little protection, if any. It would probably be beneficial for someone to rebuild the walls in a less ugly way. It strongly reminds Eret of the Bee Movie, and he is not a fan, although, knowing Tommy, that may have been intentional.

“I just wanted to talk to you all,” Eret says, stepping into the walls. “See if you were okay.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, as if he’s shocked to hear that someone cares. “Why?”

“Tommy, what happened with Sapnap?”

Tommy flinches a little, turning to Wilbur and then Tubbo. Wilbur stands behind Tommy, putting a hand on his shoulder. Tubbo sits cross-legged on the grass next to him. “It’s...a long story.”

“Punz told me the gist of it. You wanted...to run drugs?” 

Wilbur bows his head slightly. “Well, I must admit, we were doing several illegal activities at once. However, I will go on record saying that Sapnap is still a dick.”

“I don’t care about the legality of it, Wilbur. I just want to know what happened.”

Wilbur pushes Tommy out of the way, placing a friendly hand on Eret’s bicep. “Come, my friend. Let’s speak. Without the children.”

“I’m not a child!” Tommy says hotly.

“Sure you aren’t, champ. Eret? In private?” Wilbur gestures away from the children, to the front of the van. “As you were, boys. We’ll be back. Keep checking on my invisibility potions. I want them done by the time we come back.”

Wilbur leads Eret to the hood of the van, easily slinging himself onto the van, sitting with one leg popped and the other extended. Eret leans on the van, listening to the music still playing in the background and the wind still rustling through the trees. “Eret. What is it you want?”

“I just told you. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Why did you come here for that? You said Punz told you.”

Eret shrugs. “Punz is unreliable. I don’t want to see this narrative through a single lens. I figured it would be good to hear it from your perspective.” They sigh. “Truth be told, I’ve been thinking a lot ever since I had to defend Tommy and Fundy from Ponk and Purpled. I’m unsure if Dream should have the power to order Sapnap to kill children, and I want to know what you stand for. Plus, new countries mean new opportunities. New chances to rise to the top. I’d be a fool to not want in.”

Wilbur’s serious expression breaks into a smiling one. “You should’ve led with that, my friend!” Wilbur spreads his arms, gesturing to the land around him. “Welcome to L’Manberg, my friend. We are seceding from the Dream SMP for that very reason. Originally, yes, it was for drugs, but it’s more than that now. L’Manberg refuses to stand for the same tyranny and violence that the Dream SMP promotes, and we are not going to be a part of it any longer.”

“L’Manberg?” Eret repeats. The words feel strangely familiar on his tongue.

“Indeed. Can you imagine, Eret? A country where armor and weapons are banned, where peace is not just the first option, but the only one. A country with no Americans, abundant with drugs...doesn’t it sound nice?” 

Eret nods. “It does.”

“You’re British, you know. You can join, if you’d like. We’d love to have you.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Wilbur beams. “Great! You’re in!”

“But…”

Wilbur’s face falls. “What?”

“What did Dream have to say about this?”

Wilbur purses his lips. “Doesn’t that seem a little irrelevant?”

“Wilbur. What did Dream say?”

Wilbur sighs. “Do you promise to not be scared away after I tell you?”

“You act like I’m helpless and like I’ll be scared off by some threats. I know what Dream’s like, and I don’t care. Now, what did Dream say?”

Wilbur hesitates. “Dream doesn’t approve. We tried negotiating. We told him we wanted to secede peacefully. We offered to set up embassies, telling him that we were doing him a favor by going away. He refused. He told us that we were mad for trying this. He said…” Wilbur swallows hard. “He was going to kill us, Eret. His words. ‘I won’t hesitate to kill you and your family if you keep testing me.’ After that, I…”

Wilbur shivers, crossing his arms over his chest. “My brothers and son, they’re kids. They’re plenty mature and capable, of course. But you saw them that day. When all is said and done, they’re still children. I want to give them a childhood that isn’t plagued with war and political instability. If Dream keeps threatening them like that, that will never be an option. Dream...he’s not going to stop. Therefore, neither will I.” Wilbur’s grip on his shoulders tightens. “L’Manberg is the only option. We have to become independent.”

Eret offers his hand to Wilbur, who takes it and squeezes it tightly. “Let’s make history, my friend.”

Wilbur jumps down from the hood of the van. Eret is slightly startled when Wilbur pulls him in for a warm hug, but she accepts it gratefully, sinking into Wilbur’s arms. They’re not used to feeling small in hugs, but they’re not against the sensation. Wilbur’s body is soft and rounded, and he smells of smoke and wind. Just from leaning into Wilbur’s arms, Eret can tell that Wilbur doesn’t have the tough muscle of a fighter or a laborer. Wilbur speaks eloquently and beautifully, inspiring him and others to side with him, but Eret knows that Wilbur is physically inept. If L’Manberg truly wants to be independent, they’re going to need more than just words. They cannot rely on Fundy, a twelve-year-old boy to do the fighting for them while everyone else relies on luck or running away to survive. They need Eret’s manpower. They need Eret.

Eret pulls away, now more focused and ready to work for L’Manberg. It’s a piece of work right now, but Eret knows he can make it better. He knows he can help Wilbur with his dream of providing his children and brothers with a stable and happy home, but not in this state.

“First things first,” Eret starts. “Have you officially declared independence yet?”

“What, like a declaration of independence?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Rather American, innit?”

“Well, it’s how this whole revolution thing works. You have to declare independence if you want to be independent. You should consider writing one. I’d offer to help, but I’m dyslexic, so I think it’d be best to leave the writing bit up to you.”

“You’re dyslexic? Oh, so is Tubbo! But no worries, I have all the ideas for the declaration up in the old noggin. We need to finish securing our borders first. There’s this issue with the walls…” Wilbur’s voice trails off. Eret sucks his teeth.

“Yes, agreed. Look, I know I’m on the taller side, but if anyone, including me, can scale those walls with no issue, they may not be very effective.” 

“How tall are you? 190 centimeters? 191?”

“192,” Eret corrects.

“You’re the same height as Dream. I want to make it so you could not get into these walls without the permission of someone inside. I want walls three or four times your height, something impenetrable.”

“I’d also love for them to be less hideous. No offense.”

“None taken. Tommy built the walls. You know how he’s not particularly known for his...builds…” Wilbur lowers his voice, gesturing to Tommy laying in the grass a few meters away.

Eret nods, recalling how he once had to physically restrain Tommy once while helping him retile the floor of his house because Tommy kept on tearing up his work and replacing it with dirt floors. “I’m not a bad builder, you know. I could help.”

“I’d appreciate it greatly, thanks.”

Wilbur slaps Eret on the back. “Shall we tell the boys?”

“Of course. No point in keeping it a secret anymore.”

Tommy and Tubbo’s playful shouts become louder as they walk towards them together. Eret frowns as they see that Tommy isn’t yelling at Tubbo, but rather at someone else—Alyssa. 

Alyssa is tan and muscled, with pin-straight beached platinum blonde hair and light grey-blue stormy eyes. She wears a black mask covering the lower half of her face, even though it’s the middle of summer, and a black sweater and shorts underneath diamond armor. She is accompanied by Callahan, who is, well...Callahan, wearing no armor except for his blue mask, antlers poking out from underneath his mask and mop of brown hair, as usual. She has a diamond axe in one hand and a crossbow in another.

“WOMAN!!” Tommy shouts at the top of his lungs. Alyssa sighs heavily. Eret mouths an apology to her, standing behind Tommy.

“Wilbur! I’ve got good news and bad news. Good news, I’ve got you a woman. Bad news, she’s American,” Tommy says, running up to Wilbur, gesturing to Alyssa and Callahan. Tubbo bursts into laughter, but Wilbur just looks apologetic and embarrassed. 

“Er, apologies, Alyssa. Callahan. No Americans are allowed to join L’Manberg. You’re welcome to visit the embassy if you’d like,” Wilbur says, gesturing to a lone sign that reads “ENMBASY.” 

“Hi, Wilbur. We’re not interested in joining...whatever this is, don’t worry. You can rest easy,” Alyssa says, brushing her hair out of her face. “Tommy sent me a letter. Said it was urgent? I was just wondering what that was. Callahan wanted to tag along..”

Callahan signs  _ hello _ in sign language, shifting his weight playfully. His tan sweater sways in the wind lazily. Eret has asked him multiple times why he insists on wearing it in the summer. Every time, he has pretended like he doesn’t hear him.

“Tommy, what did I tell you about sending clickbait letters?!” Wilbur wags his finger at Tommy.

“It wasn’t clickbait! I said that L’Manberg was in need of women! Alyssa is the only woman around for miles!” 

“Tommy, not a single word of that was true. Say goodbye to Alyssa now. She probably—no, definitely—has better things to do than to deal with you. For the love of God, stop messaging poor random women. Especially when they’re Americans. God.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d love to see L’Manberg. We’re just not really interested in being a part of it. We like the Dream SMP just fine. Right, Callahan?” 

Callahan continues shifting his weight, slightly spaced out.

“I said,  _ right, Callahan? _ ” Alyssa elbows Callahan in the ribs. Callahan snaps back to his senses, nodding enthusiastically. 

“Great! This is our drug van. That’s our embassy. That’s our clothesline. That’s the local furry,” Tommy says, pointing to Fundy.

“Hey!” 

“Tommy, stop being mean to your nephew.”

“I’m not being mean! I’m just being honest! He is a furry, isn’t he?!”

“I’m not a furry, I’m a fox! There’s a difference!”

“Is there?”

Alyssa forces a laugh, starting to walk backwards. “Well, it seems like you all are...in the middle of something. Me and Callahan will be on our way.”

“Wait! Can we count on your allyship for L’Manberg?” Wilbur calls as Alyssa and Callahan start to walk away.

Alyssa lowers her mask. She gives Wilbur a pitiful smile.

“Sorry, Wilbur. I don’t really know you all that well. Dream has been my friend for years, and George is my brother. It’s nothing personal. I just don’t want to betray Dream. I’m not against the idea of L’Manberg, I’m just...well, you know.”

Wilbur turns to Callahan. “You, too, Callahan?”

_ I like the Dream SMP _ , Callahan signs.  _ Dream is a friend. _

“I’m your friend, too, Callahan, come on! You love me! Remember that time you gave me some iron? We’re great friends!” Wilbur is half joking, Eret thinks, but there’s a hint of urgency in his voice. Callahan backs away.

_ I didn’t give you any iron. You robbed me. _

“Oh. Well, minor details. Agree to disagree. Come on, Callahan. Please?”

Callahan’s face is slack. He exchanges glances with Alyssa, finally signing  _ neutrality is the best you’ll get out of me. I’m with Alyssa.  _

Wilbur, Eret, and Tommy all watch as Alyssa and Callahan walk away. Tommy crosses his arms.

“Well, they’re Americans. We didn’t want them anyway.”

Wilbur nods stiffly in agreement. “Of course.” 

Eventually, Wilbur goes back to making potions with Fundy. Tommy gives Eret a short tour around L’Manberg, which doesn’t last very long, considering that L’Manberg is a very small area, but is appreciated nonetheless before Eret starts work on the walls. Tubbo and Tommy are around, but they’re not of much help, opting to play-fight and watch instead. Eret might’ve found it annoying if he were anyone else, but she finds it endearing instead. Besides, it’s probably easier this way, without them getting in the way and ruining the build. They’re nice moral support, too. Tubbo ogles at Eret’s muscles, asking him how they got them. Eret tells him to finish puberty first. Tommy plays music for them. He only has three music discs—cat, mellohi, and blocks, which he plays on repeat until night falls, but Eret appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

“My dad used to play them for me,” Tommy tells Eret proudly. “These are the original ones, mind you—well, cat and mellohi, not blocks—the ones me and Wilbur and Tubbo listened to when we were kids. Apparently they were our mum’s. Dad quite likes them, but he knows that I like them more, so he gave them to me. These discs...they’re the only object that matters to me.”

“Hey! What about me?” Tubbo interjects, punching Tommy in the arm.

“Well, you’re not an object, Tubbo.”

“Oh. Right.”

Eret stops for the day a few hours after nightfall. The walls have nearly doubled in size, and Eret’s made a list of materials he needs to finish them off in a prettier way—stained glass, basalt, blackstone and polished blackstone—but she’s happy with the progress she’s made so far. They’re about to go back home to their tower when Wilbur invites them into the caravan.

“Eret? Can we talk?” Wilbur asks. Tommy is taking his discs out of the jukebox and putting them back in his ender chest, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Wilbur looks tired, too, but he always does. He can already see Fundy asleep, curled up on a small cot inside the caravan, covered by an orange-knit blanket. Tubbo sleeps opposite Fundy, clutching a stuffed bee and a matching yellow blanket. 

“Of course.”

Eret follows Tommy and Wilbur inside the van. Wilbur opens a trap door near the back of the van, exposing a small hole in the ground, leading to a blackstone chamber. Tommy starts to jump down, assuming he is a part of this conversation, but Wilbur shoots Tommy a glance and Tommy stops, sighing.

“Tommy. Go to bed.”

“But-”

“Now, Tommy. Please. I have something to discuss with Eret. Good night, Tommy.”

“Night, Will.”

Wilbur gives Tommy a hug, ruffling his hair. Wilbur looks over at Tubbo, then at Fundy, adjusting Tubbo’s blankets and giving Fundy a soft kiss on the top of his head before nodding to Eret and shimmying down the ladder and into the blackstone chamber.

“You have a beautiful family,” Eret says, following suit. The room is square, with crimson tables and chairs and ferns in each corner of the room.

“Thank you. I care about them a lot.” Wilbur sits down on one of the chairs, leaning back, crossing his legs, and extending his wings behind him. “You must think I’m silly. Me, an almost thirty-year-old man, living with my child brothers and son. And relying on them,” Wilbur cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“Not at all,” Eret says, sitting down opposite Wilbur. “That’s what family is. You rely on them just as much as they rely on you.”

“Hm. That’s a sweet thought. I will admit, it is nice to have another adult around. I’m...I’m trying my best to shield them from the worst of war. But war is coming, Eret. I can feel it in my bones. I can talk all I want with Dream, but he is not going to give up easily. And I mean, you saw Alyssa and Callahan today. Our allies are far and few. I need another adult to handle the adult responsibilities so I don’t have to traumatize my son any more than I already have.”

Eret nods in agreement. “I’m with you. What do you need from me?”

“There’s many things we need, Eret. I’m going to have Fundy grind for supplies, so we’re prepared in case war does come here. I’m putting Tommy in charge of building the embassy for now-”

Eret cringes. “Tommy? In charge of building? Are you sure?”

Wilbur sighs. “I know, I know. But I can’t have him sit around cooking drugs all day, and I have better things for you to do than build. I’m sending Tubbo around to try to recruit people, and I want you to finish the walls, and then help me with public relations and general strategy.”

“Wilbur, you can’t plan to win a war before it even starts. There’s only five of us right now. It won’t even be a war. It’ll just be a massacre.”

“I’m planning ahead, Eret. Based on Alyssa and Callahan’s reactions today, I don’t think we can count on anyone who is personally close to Dream to be on our side or even neutral. That puts Sapnap, George, Bad, Ant, Callahan, Alyssa, and Sam out of the question. Skeppy may be neutral now, but he will side with Bad on serious matters no matter what. Punz, Purpled, and Ponk will do anything if you pay them enough, but we don’t have that kind of money, so right now, their personal alliances lie with Dream. Aside from that, who do we have, Eret? Who is there?”

Eret considers this for a moment, racking his brain. Wilbur is right. The Dream SMP is rich, but they are largely isolated, and the population is small, consisting of mostly close friends of Dream. After all, the Dream SMP started when Dream moved here with a group of his friends who slowly started letting others move here as their city grew. The only people without personal ties to Dream are the ones in L’Manberg right now. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Eret says. “I’ll help in any way I can. We can gather materials, build the embassy—be prepared for both a peaceful and a violent start to L’Manberg. We’ll write the Declaration of Independence, then gage Dream’s response and decide how to act. I’ve made a list of what materials I need for the wall, by the way. You can read it here. Of course, I expect to be paid back in political power when L’Manberg gains independence. I don’t work for free.” Eret hands Wilbur his piece of paper with the materials scribbled onto it.

“Blackstone? Polished blackstone? Basalt? What do you think I am, rich?”

“Do you really expect me to make the entire wall out of concrete? Something so prone to fire and explosives? Anyone can break concrete as long as they have a pickaxe and some dedication.”

“Well, yeah, I was hoping you were good enough that you could—you know what, never mind. Next time someone goes netherite mining, I’ll send them to get blackstone for you. And I don’t mean to state the obvious, but you are the only other legal adult in L’Manberg right now. Of course, you’ll be handsomely rewarded with political power—fairly, of course—once we’re free.”

Wilbur stands up, taking off his orange jacket, hanging it up on the wall and sighing. “Well, my friend, that’s all I needed to say to you for today. Good night.”

“Good night, Wilbur. I’ll be going now.”

“You can stay here if you’d like. We have spare beds down here.”

“Ah, no thank you. I’d really prefer to sleep in the safety of my own home. I’ll be back tomorrow, though. I’ll see you then.”

Eret turns to climb up the ladder to leave when Wilbur stops him and gives him a quick hug. Eret appreciates the gesture, but she has a feeling that Wilbur needs it more than she does. So, she just leans into it.

“Good night, Wilbur.”

“Good night, Eret. Long live the revolution.”

“Long live, indeed.”


	5. tommy.

Wilbur’s spirits seem to be higher after Eret officially joins. Tommy thinks it’s because Eret is much, much better at building than any of them except maybe Tubbo, so even if everything goes wrong, at least their builds will be pretty-looking. Wilbur privately delegates them all tasks in the days after Eret joins them, giving them specific tasks to accomplish. Tommy does not know what Tubbo and Fundy are supposed to be doing, but they are away from home for hours at a time. They leave in the morning and do not return until late at night, leaving him and Wilbur alone. Tommy loves his brother, and he can see that Wilbur is hiding things from him and not from Eret, but in seeing how anxious his brother has become, he decides not to ask.

Tensions increase around town. Sapnap makes a point to shoot dirty looks at Tommy whenever possible, hacking at trees with his shirt off so Tommy knows that he cannot take him in a fight. Early one morning, Tommy watches Eret and Punz get into a screaming match right on the Prime Path. Punz calls Eret a traitor. Eret calls Punz immoral. Even Tubbo seems different, holding his tongue more around others, making sure not to utter a word of L’Manberg whenever he trades with Purpled.

Wilbur knows this, too; Tommy knows this. Wilbur is far from stupid. A few days later, Wilbur calls Tommy into the so-called “war room” underneath the caravan.

“Tommy, how is the embassy going? I need good news.” Wilbur doesn’t even look up at Tommy, eyes remaining fixated on the dozens of maps sprawled all over the crimson table. Wilbur’s eye bags have become more prominent in the past few days, his dark hair tousled and his feathers bent and wild. 

“Fine. You can come see, if you’d like. You know, it might be good for you to take a break and go outside. Touch grass.”

“I’m fine, Tommy. Don’t worry about me.”

“Wilbur, come on! Don’t you want to see it? I worked so hard on it!”

Wilbur sighs, putting down his map. “Tommy, I’m a very busy man.”

“Please, Will?”

At this, Wilbur purses his lips, thinking. “Alright, fine. I’ll come see it. You may be right. It’ll be good for me. Take me to the embassy, then.”

Tommy does, forcing Wilbur out of the War Room, across the river and out of the walls. Eret is close to completing them now, only adding final details and touches. He’s built them similarly to the Great Wall of China, building towers on each corner and a small walkway so they can walk on the walls if needed. They’re terrifying, towering over everyone and everything, visible even from Tommy’s house outside L’Manberg. Eret has kept her promise, making the walls impenetrable from the outside. Luckily, Wilbur and Tommy can easily slip out from the inside. 

Tommy rambles to Wilbur the entire way there about nonsensical things—odd things that Tubbo has done recently, all the women he’s been Snapchatting (which is none)—just random things to fill the silence. When they get to the embassy, Tommy is not entirely pleased with Wilbur’s response.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What? What’s wrong with the embassy,  _ Wilbur _ ? No, tell me, I insist!” Tommy replies hotly.

“Tommy, this is just your house! It’s a dirt shack! You didn’t even bother to change the sign, Jesus fucking Christ-”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop taking down my signs! That’s a historical artifact, mind you!”

Wilbur doesn’t listen, taking down the sign over the door that reads “TOMMY ENTERPRISES.” 

“Will, come on, give me my sign back!”

“Tommy, you didn’t listen to me at all. I told you to build an embassy and you just...you take me to your house? Your hideous dirt house?” Wilbur sighs. “Listen, Tommy. We started this thing together, and I want you to be my right-hand man through this entire thing. But right now, I just don’t think you’re as serious about this as I am. Look around, Tommy. Eret has built these walls in only a few days to keep us safe. Fundy and Tubbo are out all day doing work for the revolution. What have you done, Tommy?” 

“I-”

“I also don’t want you living out here in the open anymore. I know you’re attached to your dirt house in the mountainside but again, look around. Look at your neighbors. The Badlands are so close to you. Bad and Skeppy’s house is literally over there, I can see it. This Prime Path, this one that directly connects to your house also connects to the Community House, where Dream and all his allies live. It is so marvelously easy to come and kill you in your sleep, surrounded by enemies, and I don’t believe it’s safe for you to live out here by yourself anymore.”

“But Wilbur-”

“Here is what I need you to do. I want you to build an embassy, a real one, and move out of this little shack and into L’Manberg. I’m going to suspend your privileges inside L’Manberg until you do. And I’m going to have you refurnish the War Room, too, just because you’ve obviously done nothing.”

“Wilbur, I’m trying to tell you that this is not the embassy!!”

Wilbur stops speaking, turning to Tommy, who stands in front of a small blackstone and oak tower a little bit down the Prime Path. Wilbur is stunned into silence, and Tommy can’t help but laugh.

“Will, I think you’ve been inside for too long. Let me show you what I’ve built. I call this my Tower of Power!” Tommy shouts, opening the door and scampering up the spiral staircase to the top floor. Wilbur follows slowly, still dazed by Tommy’s build.

“I had Tubbo draw up the blueprints so it didn’t turn out ugly. Here, you can see up and down the Prime Path, and you can flame bitches if they come your way! I suppose you could also discuss with people if you don’t want to take them down to the War Room, too. But there’s more. Come on!”

Tommy jumps down the stairs, one flight at a time, then opens up a trap door, hidden behind some plants. He opens the trap door and jumps down to another blackstone room, signaling to Wilbur to come down, too. Wilbut follows, looking around the room. 

“This is the War Room! Well, the second War Room! And that’s not all. Look—”

Tommy pushes a button and opens up a secret door in the side of the room, which opens up a long stone hallway, so long and dark that neither of them can see the end of it. There’s an awful stench coming from it, which makes Wilbur scrunch his nose.

“Tommy, what the HELL is that?”

“Sewers. I dug them out these past few days. They connect everything on the SMP together. Nobody knows about them except for...well, me and you. This connects under L’Manberg, my house, Tubbo’s house, Fundy’s tower, the community house...everything. We have access to the full SMP without fear of being hunted down,” Tommy says proudly.

“Tommy, I’m incredibly proud of you, but for the love of God, PLEASE close that door. It smells rancid.”

“Oh, well,  _ apologies _ , your majesty. I apologize that the SEWERS that already have SHIT and PISS in them which I had to dig out for FOUR DAYS aren’t up to your standards. Dickhead.”

“Just close the door, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fine.” Tommy presses the button again, and the door slides back into place. “So? What do you think?”

“Tommy, this is fantastic. I’m sorry for lashing out at you earlier, it’s just...you know. The stress of revolution. It’ll be worth it in the end, though. However, Tommy, I am serious—I don’t want you living out here alone anymore. You should stay in L’Manberg from now on.” Wilbur takes Tommy’s shoulders, wrapping him in a big hug. Tommy smiles a little. Wilbur tries hard to make sure Tommy does not receive word of his struggles, but somehow, he always seems to know anyway. 

“Of course, Wilbur. I will be keeping my house, though. I am a man of many riches and much wealth, so I can afford to have many, many houses. Of course one of them can be in L’Manberg.”

“Thanks, Tommy. Say, I have a surprise for you, actually. Let’s go back to L’Manberg. I’ll show you the surprise.”

“We can use the sewers!” Tommy cheers.

“No! No. I insist we do not. Let’s go. Please. Away from here.”

Wilbur takes Tommy back to L’Manberg. He seems to be in a better mood on the way back, Tommy thinks, and he’s glad. As he had predicted, Wilbur just needed a break from it. He’s glad that he can provide some sort of relief to him, even if it’s just for an hour or two.

When they get back to L’Manberg, Tubbo and Fundy are home, going through their chests and cleaning out their useless supplies. Eret is still finishing up the walls outside.

“13 rotten flesh!” Tubbo announces. “Should we keep it?”

“Tubbo, what the hell are you talking about? Why would we keep rotten flesh?!” Fundy slaps it out of Tubbo’s hand. “Just go burn it.”

“Oh. Do I have to?”

Fundy groans. “Give it to me. I’ll do it. Christ.”

“Boys and Eret!” Wilbur calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Come outside, please! I have a surprise for all of you!”

“We’re busy!” Fundy yells.

“I don’t care!” Wilbur yells back.

Fundy and Tubbo emerge from the van a few moments later, and Eret jumps down from the wall easily, jogging over to where Wilbur stands. Wilbur places down an ender chest, perching himself on top of it. He’s the tallest one there, so it’s not like he particularly needs it, but it makes him resemble more of a leader. 

“Gentlemen,” Wilbur starts. “And Eret,” he adds.

“Although all of you have been welcomed into our great new nation, I thought it best to make it all official. So, I’ve made these.”

Wilbur opens his ender chest and pulls out five packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied up in string. Tommy can barely discern what they are in this state. They all exchange glances, slightly confused.

“Tommy, I bestow upon you this uniform. Do you accept? Are you prepared to don the uniform?” Wilbur asks, extending one of the five packages. 

Tommy doesn’t quite know what Wilbur is offering him, but he takes the package anyway. “Sure. Yes, I accept. I am prepared.”

Wilbur breaks into a smile. “That’s my boy! Go, go try it on!”

Wilbur passes out the other packages, and Tommy goes and changes in the war room. 

If he’s being honest, the uniform is pretty uncomfortable. It resembles a revolutionary war outfit—he recalls telling Wilbur once that they should make outfits based on the Redcoats as a joke but he didn’t think Wilbur would actually take his advice—a long navy coat with red and gold cuffs, with tight white pants, a short leather belt, and a poofy white undershirt. The fabric is cheap and rubs against his skin in a pretty uncomfortable way. The holes for his wings are a little small and pinch his feathers as he pulls them through. The seams are pretty visible, and Wilbur seemed to forget how gangly and thin Tommy is, so it fits oddly in some places, tight in places it shouldn’t be and loose in others. The pants are a little tight for Tommy’s liking, reminding him of the tights that ballet dancers wear, and the white undershirt resembles that of a pirate with a high collar and elaborate lace on the neck and sleeves. It’s complete with gaudy gold adornments, messily painted golden buttons and epaulettes on each shoulder, a white waistcoat, and black knee-high boots. On the right shoulder is a small white patch with a flag on it—three stripes, red, white, and blue with a black triangle to one side and 3 X marks: a yellow one on the black and two red ones on the middle white stripe. Tommy has never seen this flag before, but he recognizes it instantly—the L’Manberg flag.

There are a few small details on Tommy’s outfit, too—a patch on the back that has his name on it, and a few miscellaneous pins on his front right breast. His favorite one is one with the Hamilton cover on it. He assumes medals would normally go there, but it’s a bit difficult to give medals if there are only five citizens in their country which does not technically exist yet.

The outfit is certainly not Tommy’s style at all. It’s not even comfortable. But the pride and happiness Tommy feels while wearing the uniform is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. No matter how much it bothers him, he silently vows to himself to wear this uniform until the war is over.

When Tommy climbs back up the ladder and into the caravan, he finds everyone else in their uniforms too. They’re all similar, but not identical—Tubbo’s has a red waistband instead of a waistcoat like Tommy’s, with different pins and a sash around his torso. Eret’s has a higher collar with red trim rather than gold and a puffier shirt, tucked into a red corset rather than a belt and the bisexual and nonbinary flags sewn into. Fundy’s is pastel colors with a bowtie instead of a handkerchief with the same rainbow pattern on his jacket as well as the transgender flag sewn into either side of his chest and a shorter coat. Wilbur’s coat is longer, nearly sweeping the floor with a red collar, a brown leather harness under his coat, red and gold epaulettes, and a pattern sewn in at the bottom. Tommy thinks it looks like dancing flames at his feet. The one thing all the suits have in common is the flag, a patch on their right arms.

“The flag,” Tommy says breathily. “Did you make it?”

“Tubbo did,” Wilbur says. “You should be proud of him.”

“I am. Good job, Tubzo,” Tommy says, holding back a smile and tacking Tubbo with a hug.

“All of you look fantastic,” Wilbur says. “Now that we’ve all donned the outfit, we’ve all officially joined L’Manberg. No going back now.”

“Wilbur, that is such a beautiful thought and sentiment, and it would be so much more beautiful if there wasn’t a forest fire going on outside,” Tubbo says nonchalantly, pressing his nose to the windows.

“Wha—forest fire? Forest fire!” Wilbur nearly shatters the window in shock. Tubbo is correct, much to their dismay. Tommy can just barely see the forest outside the L’Manberg walls, but he can tell that it’s ablaze. The flames keep licking higher and higher. If they don’t put it out, it may soon reach the trees inside L’Manberg.

“What are you idiots doing, go! Don’t let it reach L’Manberg! Put it out!” Fundy shouts, jumping out of the van and bolting towards the walls. Eret silently follows, carrying three buckets of water at once. Tubbo, Tommy, and Wilbur all stare at each other for a split second before sprinting out of the van to go help. Eret is shouting something about getting on the walls as Fundy frantically tries to put the fire out, dousing the trees in water.

“How did this even start? It’s not even that dry out today!” Tubbo shouts.

“No idea! Put it out first!” Wilbur yells back.

Tommy looks around, picking up a bucket of water and using his wings to propel himself to the top. Eret’s done well—the fire cannot penetrate L’Manberg. Tommy ducks under one of the towers at the edge of the walls, crawling to make sure he’s not visible. Fundy, Tubbo, Eret, and Wilbur are all still trying to put the fire out.

“Tommy! What are you doing?! Come help!” Wilbur shouts. 

“I’m doing something!”

Tommy looks out across the burning forest, scanning the area for something out of place. He can’t explain, but he knows that this wasn’t an accident or a coincidence. Someone set their forest ablaze, and they’ve got to have left a trace. Nobody could get in and out that quickly unless they used redstone, and redstone leaves traces. Someone is here.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a miniscule movement. He whips his head around, and there it is—Alyssa and Callahan. Alyssa is staying well hidden—her black clothes blend in with the tree trunks, but she’s made a mistake—bringing Callahan. His antlers keep hitting trees as they run, shaking them slightly. 

“The woman!” Tommy shouts at the top of his lungs, pointing straight at Alyssa. “She did it!” 

Alyssa freezes like a deer in headlights for a moment before grabbing Callahan’s sleeve and bolting, abandoning all stealth and simply running out of the forest surrounding L’Manberg. Wilbur and Tubbo glance at each other, then quickly abandon their posts, jumping down onto the tree tops. Wilbur catches himself on the wall with a hook and a rope, sliding down and jumping to the floor. Tubbo just throws himself into the tree branches, and Tommy follows.

Wilbur and Tubbo are running to catch Alyssa as fast as they can, but Tommy is thinner and can swing on the branches with more ease. EVery once in a while, when he starts to fall back, he flaps his wings and it pushes him forward. He pulls out his axe, dropping down next to the Prime Path. He swings blindly, and chops off some of Alyssa’s hair, falling forward. The impact sends Alyssa and Callahan forward and all three of them scatter onto the Prime Path. All of their things spill onto the floor. They’re all stunned for a second until Alyssa lunges for her axe and Tommy grabs his as well, lying on the floor a few feet away. Callahan scurries away, stumbling to his feet, and Alyssa is about to leave, too, when Tommy slams his axe onto the Prime Path, pinning Alyssa’s shirt to the floor. He picks up his bow, aiming it at Alyssa’s head.

“Explain. Now.”

Wilbur and Tubbo both catch up at this point, slowing down and pulling out their respective weapons—Tubbo is prepared with a sword, but Wilbur only holds a lighter. He had left so quickly that he hadn’t even had time to pick up a real weapon. Alyssa grits her teeth, sitting up as best she can with one arm pinned to the floor.

“Let me go.”

“No. Not until you explain what you were doing.”

“I was going on a walk with my friend. At least, I  _ was _ , until you started chasing me out of your forest.”

“You were running away from a burning forest. We’re not fucking stupid, Alyssa. What were you doing?” 

“Are you accusing me of burning down your forest?”

“Yes, I am!”

“Look at my things. Do you see a flint and steel anywhere among them? I’m telling you, Tommy, it wasn’t me!”

“I—well—no, but it had to have been you! Forests don’t just randomly catch ablaze!”

“Tommy, I’m not saying that it wasn’t arson, I’m just saying that it wasn’t me! Give me my pickaxe. You’re wasting time on me and Callahan while your forest is still burning. Go. Get out of here,” Alyssa says, ripping her sleeve out from underneath the axe, picking up her pickaxe and gathering the rest of her things.

_ We told you we’re neutral _ , Callahan signs.  _ We’re keeping our word _ .

“So if you didn’t do it, who did?” Tommy asks.

“I don’t know! It’s none of my business! Come on, Callahan. We’re leaving.” Alyssa hands Callahan a few ender pearls, and together, they teleport away, leaving Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur alone on the Prime Path.

Once they’re gone, Wilbur loudly swears at the sky. Tubbo timidly helps Tommy get his axe out from the splintered wood of the Prime Path as Wilbur tries to collect himself. Eret and Fundy approach them, jogging to catch up.

“What happened?” Fundy asks.

“It wasn’t Alyssa. But if not her...then who?” Tubbo asks.

Wilbur slams his hand on a nearby building, hunched over.

“It’s Dream. I know it was. Dream’s a smart man. He probably sent Alyssa and Callahan to distract us so we wouldn’t catch him.” Wilbur shakes his head. “I have something I need to do. You two go ahead. Go straight home. I’ll be there soon.”

“Of course, Wilbur-”

“I’m serious. Go home. Eret, keep an eye on them, will you?”

Eret nods, turning around and starting to walk back home. Tommy holds back for a moment.

“Trust us, Wilbur,” Tommy says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be okay. Hurry back.”

Wilbur nods to them, then runs off in the opposite direction of L’Manberg. Tubbo hands Tommy his axe, still with a scrap of black fabric clinging onto the end, which Tommy picks off and throws to the side. They walk down the Prime Path in silence, Fundy and Eret walking a few feet ahead of them.

“Tommy?” Tubbo asks.

“What?”

“We’re in the right, yeah?” 

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you know…” Tubbo shrugs. “Remember last month when Dream and Punz stole Alyssa’s pickaxe and we hunted them down together with her? With Ponk and Sapnap?”

“I do. Sapnap taught me how to use a shield then. It was the first and only time I ever beat Punz in a fight. It was epic. Sapnap gave me Dream’s crossbow. I accidentally punched Alyssa in the back thinking she was Dream.”

“Yeah, well, weren’t things simpler back then? No L’Manberg, no nothing...sure, we fought, but it wasn’t  _ real _ fighting. We never fought to kill. Now, someone just burned our forest down. Don’t you think there may have been a reason for someone to do that? Tommy, are we...are we doing the right thing?”

“Of course,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Things were simpler, but they weren’t really better, were they? That week alone, Sapnap burned down Ponk’s lemon tree, so Ponk and Alyssa burned down Sapnap’s house. Sapnap tried to kill Alyssa and Ponk, so they complained to Dream, who sided with Sapnap and used it to his advantage to try to take their stuff. Then, Sapnap got us to try to get back at Dream, so we took his crossbow, and he got Punz to fight us for the crossbow, but then I beat him in a fight-”

“That’s what I’m saying, Tommy. We fought all the time, but I’ve never seen Sapnap shoot at anyone the way he shot at you that night, and it was over drugs. What made it serious this time and not all those other times? Did we do something wrong?”

Tommy considers this for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I think Sapnap was threatened because we, L’Manberg...we’re in direct opposition to Dream’s rule. The sheer fact that we exist proves that Dream isn’t the supreme ruler. We threaten Dream, and that’s why Sapnap is so against us. Haven’t you ever heard the saying?”

“What saying?”

“‘If gods can bleed, gods can die.’ We’ve just made Dream bleed, and he’s scared that we might decide to kill him.”

“That’s not a saying. You’re making that up. That’s from Avengers, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m not! You stupid dickhead, you’ve never heard of it?”

The two bicker almost the entire way there, bantering and laughing like they have so many times before. For a moment, it seems like everything is okay. 


	6. tommy.

As they walk through the forest, Tubbo’s expression saddens as he lightly brushes his fingers along the scorched trees. When he pulls his hand away, his hand is black with ash and soot. 

Tommy puts his wing around Tubbo silently. He knows how much Tubbo cares about nature and how much it pains him to see their forest in this state. 

They finally start to approach the entrance of the L’Manberg walls. The trees that were once there have been completely burned down. Some of the forest is still catching on fire. Other parts are just smoldering.

“Wow. I guess it really wasn’t Alyssa, then,” Tubbo says quietly.

“Maybe it was lightning? Was it storming earlier today?” Eret asks.

Eret and Fundy quickly return to work, working on clearing out the burnt trees. Tubbo makes a choked sound in the back of his throat as he watches them chop down the burnt stumps, but says nothing.

“Hey. Tubbo. Tommy.”

The two of them turn around, confused. Instinctively, Tommy pulls out his axe, pointing it at the voice—which, unfortunately, belongs to Sapnap.

Sapnap’s voice is low and serious. He’s holding a netherite sword at his side. Next to him are Punz and Dream. 

Tommy almost shits himself at the sheer sight of them. He’s fought all three of them individually, but only as a joke, and he’s lost most times. He cannot imagine fighting them for real in a way that doesn’t end up with his immediate death. Tommy doesn’t even have armor on, and all three of them have full netherite. Punz’s white-blond hair seems to glow almost purple under his enchanted netherite, his white hoodie creating a stark contrast to his black armor. Sapnap’s bandana is blowing in the wind, and Dream looks as cryptic as always, deliberately choosing to not wear a helmet so everyone can see his eerie smiling mask. His axe is slung over his shoulder. Punz, too, holds a sword at his side.

“H-hey, boys...what’s going on here?” Tubbo asks nervously, backing up into Tommy. Eret and Fundy pull out their own weapons and shields, already bracing themselves for a fight. Eret and Fundy both have full netherite, but Tommy and Tommy are almost completely unarmed. Wilbur is nowhere to be seen. They are completely vulnerable.

“I’m keeping my promise,” Dream says, stepping forward slowly. “I told you, Tommy. I told you and Wilbur that I would kill you if you didn’t stop. And you haven’t. I’ve come to make good on that promise.”

“Dream? Dream? My friend! Big man! Now, I would love to let you come kill us, but that's actually illegal in L’Manberg. Armor and weapons are both banned, and violence is, too. We only win wars by using our words. Now, use your words,” Tommy instructs.

Sapnap steps forward. “I’ll give you some words. Surrender, or die.”

“I’m not going to do that, Sapnap.”

“We would rather die than see you in power,” Eret calls from behind Tommy, pulling out his own axe.

“Eret, please. Step aside,” Punz says. “We both know that you’re the weakest one in this fight. All that fancy armor can’t buy you fighting skills.”

Eret gapes, stunned into silence. Tommy wants to shout out something stupid and reckless to defend Eret, but Punz is right. Eret is not a bad fighter—certainly better than any of them—but compared to Punz, Sapnap, and Dream? They’re dead meat. 

“No,” Eret finally says. “These are children, Punz. Leave them alone.”

Punz shrugs. “Nothing personal. Just my job.”

“You’re sick.”

“I don’t care. Now, step aside, Eret.”

“I’ll fight you,” Eret says solemnly. “If you’re looking for someone to kill, kill me instead. They’re  _ kids _ , Punz. Thirteen years old.”

“Eret, I’m asking you one last time. Step aside.”

“Or what, Punz? You’ll kill me? I don’t care. Kill me, Punz. Fight me, right here, right now. I’m stronger than you think.”

“No,” Punz says. “Step aside, or I’ll kill him.”

Punz aims his crossbow at Tubbo’s head. Tommy can feel his heart almost stop. Eret looks like he’s been shot, stumbling back in shock.

“Drop your weapons,” Dream says. Eret drops his sword and axe. Fundy drops his sword, and Tommy hands his axe to Punz. 

“Come with us,” Sapnap says, aiming his axe at Tommy. Dream points his own crossbow at Tubbo—Tommy would recognize that crossbow anywhere.

“Where’s Wilbur?” Punz asks, hitting Tommy to the floor with the flat edge of his sword. 

“Not here,” Tommy snarls.

“No shit, dumbass,” Punz says.

Sapnap climbs to the top of a tree, jumping from the tree to the top of the walls around L’Manberg. Eret instinctively flinches as he touches the wall.

Sapnap clears his throat and shouts, as loud as he can. His voice echoes out through the entire forest.

“Listen up!” Sapnap shouts. “Wilbur, I know you’re listening! We’ve taken Tubbo hostage, and if you want to see him alive again, you’re going to get your ass over to L...L’Manchild, or whatever this dumb place is called and surrender! You have—” Sapnap checks his watch. “—thirty minutes!” 

“Tubbo, use your words!” Tommy shouts to Tubbo, who’s on his knees with Dream’s axe at his head. “Follow the L’Manberg rules! Use your words!”

“I am using my words! He’s not listening!” Tubbo yells desperately, his voice breaking. “He won’t listen to me.”

“Tubbo! You have invisibility potions! Use them!” Fundy shouts.

“I can’t! He’ll kill me!”

“I’ve had enough of you two giving them advice. You want to be part of this, bitchboy?” Punz growls, unsheathing his sword and running towards Fundy. Fundy helps, grabbing his ax off the floor and rolling to the side. Tommy can hear Eret shout and join the fight and the sound of metal clashing in the background, but Sapnap jumps down from the walls and forces Tommy forward and away from the action, towards Tubbo.

“Get in the box,” Dream instructs, pointing to a black obsidian box, just big enough for Tommy and Tubbo to squeeze in. Dream is holding more pieces of obsidian in one hand and his axe in the other. He’s assembled the box in only a few seconds, but Tommy still doesn’t see a way out of it. A diamond or netherite pickaxe is needed to break obsidian, and even then, it takes a few minutes. They’ll be dead by the time they can break it. Tommy doesn’t even have iron tools on him.

“No! Are you crazy? You’ll kill us!” Tommy objects.

“Get in the box or I’ll kill you faster.”

“No!”

Dream raises his axe. Tubbo screams and rolls into the obsidian box. The ground where Tubbo’s head once was is split. Tommy is quick to follow Tubbo in. Dream places a final piece of obsidian at the entrance, and Tubbo and Tommy find themselves completely locked in.

The box is only a few feet tall and wide. Tubbo is small, but even he has to crouch to fit. Tommy has to sit on the floor to fit. His wings brush against the roof of the box, even though they’re folded behind him. They pant heavily, trying their best to stay calm. Tubbo is in tears. 

“Are you hurt?” Tommy asks. 

“No,” Tubbo whimpers. Even in the dark, Tommy can see that Tubbo is hiding a huge gash on the back of his neck. 

“Do you have anything that we can use?” Tommy asks breathily. 

“No. I have the invisibility potions, some bread, and a knife. You?”

“I have an iron pick. We’ll never be able to break through the obsidian.”

For a moment, they’re silent. They can still hear Eret and Fundy fighting with Punz. There’s a sickening sound of a metal hitting skin and a horrible scream from Eret. Punz and Dream are laughing. Why are they laughing?

“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” Tubbo says in a small voice.

Tommy says nothing, taking his brother’s hand and squeezing. Tubbo squeezes back, holding back a choked sob.

“Wilbur will save us. He has to.”

“I don’t think Wilbur’s coming,” Tubbo says quietly. “I think this is it.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything? No regeneration potions? No golden apples?”

“No. Nothing. I don’t even have any wood on me.”

Tubbo sits down, closer to Tommy, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Let’s just stay here for a minute. We can...we can wait for death here,” Tubbo says, squeezing Tommy’s hand again. 

They sit there for a few moments, trying to cherish what seems like may be their last moments of life. Tommy has to admit, it is a little difficult when Fundy won’t stop screaming and Dream is wheeze-laughing outside.

“This sucks,” Tommy says.

“Agreed,” Wilbur’s voice says from outside the box.

Tommy jumps up, hitting his head on the ceiling of the obsidian box. “Will?”

“Tubbo? Tommy? Are you in there?”

“Wilbur! Yes! We’re in here! Help!” Tubbo bangs his fist on the wall.

“Tommy, Tubbo, I need to know—where are the invisibility potions? Are they in the chests in the caravan?”

“No, they’re on us! I have two and Tommy has one.”

“Why didn’t you use them, then?”

“We can’t get out of this stupid box! Why would we turn invisible inside the box?”

“Wilbur!” Sapnap shouts from outside the box. “Surrender!”

“I can’t do that, Sapnap. You’re trespassing on L’Manberg territory right now. I will have to ask you to leave.”

“No,” Sapnap says. There’s a clang, and a hole opens up in the obsidian box. Tubbo and Tommy both clamor to get out, but it’s guarded by Sapnap and his axe. He has a flint and steel in his other hand and worst of all, Dream is standing opposite Sapnap, behind Wilbur, aiming his crossbow at Wilbur’s head.

“Surrender, Wilbur. Or they die. Choose wisely.”

“You will never get L’Manberg back. You know what, you can kill them. Hell, kill me, too. You will never gain back the respect you lost when we seceded. This revolution is already underway. You can kill us, but can you kill the movement?” Wilbur asks. The burning forest is reflected in his dark eyes as he falls to his knees. Dream lowers his crossbow, jumping down behind Wilbur.

“Maybe not. We’re not going to kill you, Wilbur. Not now, at least. No matter how much you beg.” Dream nods to Sapnap, who approaches the box, flint and steel in hand. 

“You know what we are going to do? We’re going to kill them. And you’re going to watch.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. Tubbo staggers back. “Surely not. Surely not. Please.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Sapnap whispers to them, just loud enough for them to hear as he lights the rim of the box on fire.

“Wilbur! Help!” Tommy shouts at the top of his lungs. Sapnap must’ve planned for this. Obsidian doesn’t burn, but it lights on fire incredibly easily, and it’s difficult to put out—that’s why nether portals work so well. Tommy’s throat is going raw from screaming.

Wilbur throws himself forward into Sapnap. Sapnap may be heavily armed, but Wilbur is almost seven inches taller than Sapnap and several pounds heavier. His armor stops the worst of the knockback, but Sapnap still stumbles back a few steps, just enough for him to drop his pickaxe. Wilbur jumps to grab it and throws it into the hole in the box at Tommy and Tubbo.

“Go! Get out! I’ll hold them off!” Wilbur shouts.

Tommy picks up the pickaxe with a start. The fire licks at the edges of the box, coming closer and closer to him and Tubbo. He can feel the heat on his face already, and his eyes burn from the smoke. 

“What are you waiting for?! Start mining!” Tubbo yanks on Tommy’s shirt urgently. 

Tommy finally processes what’s happening, blinking heavily to try to stop the smoke from getting in his eyes and starting to mine out the hole in the box. The fire keeps spreading, burning at his arms and wings. At some point, Tubbo gasps, shouting something about Tommy’s clothes on fire, but right now, he can’t feel it. The only thing he can feel are his hands on the pickaxe as he mines out to try to save his and Tubbo’s lives.

When the obsidian breaks, Dream notices. Tommy finally realizes that he’s on fire and clamors and rolls to the river to try to put himself out. He makes it about halfway before Dream starts shooting at him and Tubbo. Wilbur is still keeping Sapnap busy, and Eret and Fundy are entertaining Punz, but Dream is still free to survey the land—and him and Tubbo.

“Run! Tommy! Go! You’ll burn!” Tubbo yells, trying to run in zig-zags to throw off Dream’s aim. 

“He’ll shoot you!”

“Go!”

Tommy takes one last running jump and lands in the river. The fire on his clothes and skin sizzles and goes out. There’s a distinct smell of burning flesh—Tommy’s own skin, burning. The new L’Manberg uniform is charred, almost completely torn to shreds. Tommy peels the burnt sleeve off his arm, exposing raw, red skin. Black burnt feathers fall from his wings. A problem for later.

Tommy is quickly interrupted by Tubbo stumbling into the river, hands covering his face and moving backwards using his feet. Dream is aiming at Tubbo’s head.

“Please! Please! Please! Please!” Tubbo pleads, covering his face. Dream is expressionless as always, behind his mask.

“Tubbo, get ready to duck,” Tommy whispers to Tubbo.

Dream shoots, and Tommy slams Tubbo into the bed of the creek, missing the arrow by centimeters. Tommy can feel the air current from the arrow graze his head. Tommy fumbles with the only invisibility potion he has on him, breaking it in between him and Tubbo, quickly stripping off the remaining pieces of his armor and turning completely invisible.

“You’re dead, Wilbur!” Punz is shouting. “Fuck you, dude! Fuck you!”

“Leave him, Punz! He’s not worth it!” Sapnap yells. “Let’s go! We’ve done enough!”

Dream scans over the river, searching for any abnormal ripples or particles in the water to indicate Tommy’s and Tubbo’s position. Tommy holds his breath, trying his best to keep still. 

“Dream! Let’s go! We’re leaving!” Sapnap calls. Dream stares directly at the spot where Tommy and Tubbo are positioned.

“Until the next time,” Dream says. “This isn’t over.”

Dream nocks one last arrow, striking the ground in front of Tubbo and Tommy before darting off into the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @lesbianvivi on twitter, @endingscxne on tumblr, @endingscene on quotev, and @ghostingthorns on instagram, feel free to shoot me a dm!


End file.
